


Mirror Saga

by tjmystic



Series: Mirror Saga [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjmystic/pseuds/tjmystic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle uses a surprise gift from Regina to heal her relationship with Rumplestiltskin</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ice That Doesn't Melt

Ice That Doesn’t Melt  
Mirrors are ice which do not melt: what melts are those who admire themselves in them. – Paul Morand

Part 1 of the Mirrors Saga

after 2x5-The Doctor

Rating: R

Warning: abusive sexual relationship (though probably not in the way you’re expecting)

Author’s Note: Just 2 things. 1) Lost, I hope this fic gives you more feels than you know what to do with, cause I wrote the damn thing and that’s what happened to me. 2) I don’t like Milah. After this fic, that fact should be pretty obvious, but I’m just going to go ahead and say it upfront. That is all.

 

Belle took down the final string of paper pumpkins, laying them on one side of the main desk in the library and wiping her sweaty brow. They’d celebrated Halloween in the Marchlands, but not as extravagantly as they did in Storybrooke, it seemed. Everywhere she looked, giant black cats or ghouls made with fake bones and bed sheets sprang from the ground, looming over everything in the town. Not wanting to be left out, Belle had tried her own hand at it, stringing up as many black lights and other small decorations as she could in preparation for the holiday. She wasn’t disappointed, nor were the many children who’d come by for Trick-or-Treating, but she made a mental note to tone it down next year – this many decorations were too much for just one person to handle.

Belle skittered a bit at the thought, hands in front to keep her clumsy self from tripping. She didn’t want it to be just her next Halloween; to be fair, she hadn’t wanted it to be just her this Halloween, either. She was determined to be strong, though, after everything that had happened over the last couple of weeks. Even, she admitted glumly, if that meant waiting for Rumplestiltskin to make the move of setting a time for their hamburger date.

 

The front door banged against its hinged, and Belle leapt out of her reverie, craning her neck to see who it was. Her smile stretched from ear to ear at the image of a familiar head of brown hair bouncing her way.

“Henry!” she greeted, leaning over the counter towards him. “How are you today?”

“Great! Listen, Belle, I’ve got something for you,” he panted, drawing out a large elliptical package out of his backpack.

Belle beamed – apart from Rum and her father, no one had ever given her a gift before. “Why, thank you Henry. This is very sweet.”

“It’s not from me,” he corrected, giving his head a gentle shake. “It’s from mom.”

“Emma? But I thought –”

“Other mom. Regina.”

Belle tried not to flinch away from that admission. She loved Henry, it would be hard not to, but she would have to suck up her feelings for the boy and banish his present outside if it really was from the queen. He noticed her absolute lack of trust, though, and quickly leapt back into speech.

“I know mom isn’t a good person,” he shrugged, shuffling his feet, “and I know what she did to you was wrong. But she’s really, really trying to be a better person for me. I mean, she made me run down to give it to you because she knew you wouldn’t take it if it was from her. This is her kind of apology, though – she isn’t really good with actually saying ‘I’m sorry’.”

He looked left and right then lent in close, his voice dropping to a secretive whisper. “I promise that you really don’t have to worry. I took it to the Blue Fairy so she could check and make sure there wasn’t any bad magic in it.”

She didn’t necessarily trust that particular fairy, either, especially after Leroy explained her part in separating him and Astrid (not to mention Rum’s abject hatred of her and the other nuns). However, she wasn’t about to tell Henry that and ruin his trust, too, and she graciously placed the package to the left of her scanner. Disregarding the Blue Fairy’s involvement, she knew it would be unfair, not to mention rude, to refuse the present – after all, if she didn’t try to forgive Regina, how could she ever expect Rumplestiltskin to?

“Thank you, Henry,” she smiled, giving him a quick hug. “And, as it so happens, I have something for you, too.” She bent behind the desk and pulled out a large tome, covered with dust and faint gold engravings. “I was cleaning out the fantasy section a few days ago and I found this. It’s the Grimm versions of all the stories in your book.”

“Cool! I could only ever find a few of them at school, and most of them were online. How long can I keep it?”

“Forever, if you want.” Her smile widened at Henry’s ecstatic gasp. “I thought it might be fun for you and your grandparents to read over them when Snow and Emma come back.”

Henry’s mouth turned up in a sad but hopeful smile, and she hoped that her gift might remove some of the sad. Whenever she had been upset as a child, books were the only thing that could calm her, and she thought that Henry might be the same way.

“Thanks, Belle,” Henry said, turning on his heel and running out the front door. “I’ll tell you if it’s any good!”

Belle’s lips fell into a thoughtful frown as she looked back to the oblong present. For a moment, she contemplated calling Rum and asking him his opinion about all of this, but eventually thought better of it. Knowing him, he’d likely destroy it before she could even begin to find out what it was, claiming it was for the best. A seed of guilt wove its way through her stomach – she’d all but begged him to be truthful to her, and now she was the one keeping secrets from him. She made herself a promise, then, that she’d tell him if there was something wrong with the present, or even if there wasn’t, but only after she’d gotten a chance to see it for herself.

She stole a quick glance outside to make sure no one was coming her way, turned her sign around so that it read “CLOSED FOR LUNCH”, and headed upstairs to her apartment.

Safely ensconced on her couch, Belle peeled away the thin layers of brown paper, curious as to what could possibly feel so heavy in her lap. She really shouldn’t have asked, though – as the last shred fell away, a pristine, silver-plated hand mirror flashed her reflection. It was an enemy Belle knew only too well.She drew her eyes away from the mirror, though, not wanting to think about what it could mean, and focused instead on the note that had fallen out of the package with it. In Regina’s large, elegant script, she read,

I don’t expect you to trust me, or even believe anything I’m about to tell you, but I promise this mirror isn’t evil. But it is magic. Unlike the one I kept Sidney locked up in, though –

Belle cringed at that. She’d never been particularly good friends with the man in the mirror, but she still thought it cruel the way Regina trapped him.

– this mirror only shows images of the past, and rather specific ones at that. It won’t show just anything or anyone, it will only show events in the life of one’s true love – yours, now. 

Here, the script began to waver, as if Regina was deliberating whether or not to continue.

I felt it best to give this one away after everything that’s transpired with Daniel… my true love. I’m sure Rumple’s told you all about that little fiasco. But I’m not sure what else he’s told you. I know about his promise to you that he’ll try to tell you the truth, but, you must know, I was the man’s student once upon a time and I know how difficult it is for him to keep his promises. As such, this mirror is my way of making sure that he doesn’t break your heart. I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but I really am trying to make amends. If you don’t want to keep it, though, just smash it – I never want to see it again. 

Belle didn’t quite know what to feel. She was still distrustful, of course, and somewhat annoyed that the queen had taken it upon herself to intrude on her love life, but she couldn’t deny that she was touched. It had obviously taken a lot out of Regina to work up even this much of an apology, and wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

Gingerly, she took the silver-handled mirror in hand and lifted it to her face, eyes on the glass and not on the ornate doves engraved into the edges. “Show me Rumplestiltskin,” she said nervously, feeling both idiotic for talking to herself and scared for what she was about to see. 

A sea of images, all floating within purple clouds, exploded behind the glass, rotating and swirling past each other as they rose to the surface. Belle ran her finger along the side, amazed by the view but not really knowing how she should proceed. Her eyes settled on the calming image of a rundown ramshackle hut in the midst of a dusty field, and, hesitant, she poked at the picture, waiting to see what would happen.

The field expanded, violet steam wrapping around it and stretching it to the edges of the glass, and Belle pulled it closer, eyes intent on every detail.

She didn’t see how this scene had anything to do with her Rum. There were only two people there, a young couple, it seemed, marching toward the lonely house as they shot shy smiles at each other. Then the man turned around, and Belle’s breath left her in a whoosh of surprise.

It was Rumplestiltskin. 

Not as she’d ever seen him, though. He was much younger, his hair not even the slightest bit grey yet and his face unlined by the wrinkles she’d come to love. He was also dressed rather more simply than she was used to, his cloak and shirt that of the Frontlands’ peasantry, and he walked jauntily without the need of a cane. 

“My lady,” he laughed joyously, holding open the door for the young woman. Her cheeks dimpled prettily, and Belle tried not to be jealous.

“Why thank you, kind sir.”

Rum grinned at the woman, free of the underlying bitterness that always filled his smiles now, and followed her into the house. A low fire was already roaring in the hearth, and the bed sheets had been crisply tucked and turned back. Rum spared a tentative glance at the bed before he blushingly returned his gaze to his partner.

“Are you ready, Milah?” he asked, his hands smoothing out the creases of her dress.

The woman – Milah – snorted at him. “You really have to ask?”

Rum laughed back. “No, I suppose not.”

Trembling, his fingers skimmed down the closures of her shawl, flipping them open one by one. “I love you, my wife,” he murmured, unbuttoning the last clasp. 

Belle’s cheeks flushed bright red, and her free hand flew up to her mouth. How had she not guessed that this was where the scene was going? She knew the basics of marriage and sex, after all, she wasn’t a child. Actually, she probably knew more now than she’d ever wanted to, what with the videos called “porn” that Ruby had introduced her to and the sexual education books she’d found in her own library. She could hardly help it, though – even when watching the nasty video with her newest friend, she only imagined herself with Rumple, never the people on the screen or even herself with another man. Or him with another woman. The reality that she was about to see just that, though, sank in without her permission, leaving her a little bit queasy and afraid. Still, she’d asked the mirror to show her this, and she wasn’t about to back out now. Besides, the woman he was about to make love with was his wife, after all, and his wife of very long ago at that.

She dropped her hand just as the rest of Milah’s dress dropped to the floor, spread haphazardly about their feet. Rumplestiltskin smiled, his eyes full of genuine happiness as they moved shyly down his wife’s body. Belle and Milah seemed to move in sync as they did the same with him, both pausing at the sweep of his neck and the surprising broadness of his arms. Belle’s spine tingled when her eyes dropped ever lower, though, cheeks burning red when she took in the subtle curve of his arse, the sharpness of his hips, and – she blushed even redder – what rested just between them, not yet hard but laying thick against his thigh. She sighed at the sight, tempted to give in to her foolish desire of petting him through the glass, but was unpleasantly distracted by Milah’s snort. Her eyes scanned to the right, and she saw that Milah’s gaze was focused at the same spot her own had been, though with considerably less desire. A derisive grin peeled up the corner of her lips, and she pointed low, drawing Rum’s own attention to his cock.

“That’s all you’ve got for me?” she guffawed, a horrible noise like a crow’s caw. 

He took a step back, the smile still on his face. It was clear to Belle that he didn’t yet understand what had changed and was still pitifully happy. Still, he tried to cover himself up, his hand moving tentatively past his hips, but Milah pulled them away and laughed at him even harder.

“It’s pathetic!”

“It,” he started, his mind obviously working hard to bring him up to speed with the turn of events, “I– I don’t know –”

She sighed and batted him teasingly on the cheek. “Let’s just go back to kissing, alright?” she suggested, a faint smile on her lips and her hands on his shoulders. “You seemed decent at that at least.”

Belle’s heart shattered a little at how overjoyed her Rum was at the scant praise of “you seemed decent”. But then he had his arms wrapped around his wife, obviously in total reverence of her, his lips and tongue working their hardest to make up for what she thought he lacked elsewhere. Belle thought he was doing admirably, and longed to feel him nipping her lips like he was doing to Milah in the mirror. His wife didn’t seem to agree.

“Ow!” she squawked, pushing him away. “Kiss my lips, you idiot, don’t bite them! Ugh, if you’re gonna be this useless all night, I’d best start drinking now.”

She walked to the rundown table in the center of their hut and picked up a heavy amber bottle, downing the dregs of it in one go. She smacked her lips together and gave him a quick onceover. “Look at that, you already look a fair sight better.”

He smiled at her again, though without the enthusiasm he’d shown before. It seemed that he’d finally caught up to Milah’s game and was now trying not to lose.

Already floundering a bit, Milah grabbed at his neck, forcing him into a deep kiss while muttering that he’d better not bit her again. When it finally seemed that he’d gotten used to the new rhythm, though, she grabbed his hand and pulled it down between her legs, forcing a stuttering breath out of his mouth. She groaned in annoyance at that and tapped his shoulder. “You aren’t supposed to stop kissing me just because your hand’s busy.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, I can –”

“Move your hand, alright?”

Rum nodded and twisted his wrist back and forth, obviously having no clue as to what he was doing. Instead of helping him, Milah slapped his hand away and glared at him hard from under her eyelashes.

“Look, just forget it, will you?” Milah grabbed for another bottle and downed a good sized shot of it. “Just try with my breasts. Can you do that?”

He nodded glumly, and Belle could tell that, far from wanting to keep touching his wife, all he wanted was to leave. Still, he did as she commanded and moved his hands to her large breasts, squeezing them like she suggested. His member hung flaccid between them, a fact she seemed desperate to make sure he remembered judging by the way she kept nudging it with her knee, but he poured all of his focus into what she told him to do with her body. Despite his hesitant fingers and the pressure on his thigh, he followed her instructions to the letter, but Milah continued to berate him.

“You’re not even trying, are you? I’m not bread dough, you know, you can’t just knead me like that and expect me to feel something.”

“S-s-sorry,” he stammered, moving his hands away completely. 

“Oh, so now you’re just going to quit?” she huffed, rolling away from him. She looked down and shook her head, poking him sharply in his thigh as she did. “And you still aren’t ready yet? You know, I’m beginning to think that the boys down the road were right about you.”

He cringed away, twitching his hands like he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “What did they say?”

“Like you don’t know. They’ve been saying that all the time you’ve spent training for the army has turned your tastes more towards men.”

Rum blanched, shaking his head frantically. “It’s not that! I promise, Milah, it’s just –”

“It’s just that you’re bloody worthless is what it is. Look, Rumple, you’re sweet, don’t get me wrong, but I thought you were hiding something better under all of that. I mean, fuck, did your parents not even show you how animals do it?”

He turned bright red and looked away. “They died before I was old enough.”

“Great,” she slurred, downing another sip of amber liquid, “now you’re gonna try and make me feel guilty. Is it really too much to ask that my husband be good in bed? I mean, what’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know. I… I don’t know what I’m doing,” he muttered, obviously desperate for some hint. Instead, his wife snorted at him and pushed herself off the bed, letting him fall in a heap to the covers.

“Well that’s obvious,” she scoffed, staggering on drunken legs. “Seems I’ll have to go enjoy our honeymoon by myself with the boys at the pub after all. At least they know how to fuck a woman properly. Don’t wait up.” 

She grabbed another bottle off the table and brought it to her lips, trying to put on her dress and shawl without dropping the glass to the floor. She marched past the bed, ignoring her husband’s eyes, but stopped just as her hand touched the door.

“I’m sorry, Rumple.”

And, with that, she was out the door, banging it closed behind her.

For a long moment, Rumplestiltskin stayed stock still in his bed, peering out from under his hair at the door as if hoping that Milah would come right back. But she didn’t, wouldn’t for some time, and that fact finally seemed to sink in to his head.

With a weary sigh, he rolled himself to the floor, snorting mockingly at the sight of his naked body. He pulled his cloak around his shoulders, trying to hide himself from his own eyes, and pulled the dirty sheets off the mattress. He moved to put it in the basket with his wool, but, at the last second, turned and threw it in the fire. Smoke and ash billowed out from the fire pit, and as it rose, he tilted his face to the sky.

“I don’t know who’s listening,” he said softly, “but, whoever’s there, please, please help me. I have no idea how to do anything right, and now my wife is spending our wedding night in another man’s bed, I just know it. She promised she would stop once we got married, and I thought I’d finally get my chance to prove that… But what am I saying? My wife, she deserves so much more than… this.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, hanging his head in his hands. “She deserves so much more than me.”

The mirror welled up with water as his shoulders began to shake. Belle thought that it was another kind of magic, a way for the image to wash itself out of sight, but she realized her mistake when another warm tear slid down her cheek. She hastily rubbed them away, pushing the mirror under a sofa cushion to keep it from being rained on anymore. Her head, her heart, her soul hurt from everything she’d just seen. If this is what he had to deal with, then it was no wonder he thought she’d leave him so easily. Belle’s hands clenched into fists, and, though she’d never been particularly morbid or violent, she wished she could drag Milah out of her grave by her hair and slap her.

There were better ways to fix what had been done, though, and, with a steadying breath, she raced downstairs and into the street. As she’d hoped, the sign on the pawnshop across from her library said “OPEN” and she pushed her way in without any ado, pausing just long enough to make sure her tears were well-hidden.

A bell dinged over her head, and she heard rumbling in the back of the shop accompanied by the steady tap of a cane. When he finally appeared, graying hair swaying with every step, she had to stifle her gasp. Even though this was the man she knew, not the one in the mirror, she couldn’t help but feel like he’d aged several decades in the span of two minutes. Far from disappointing her, though, it only made her sad – she finally had a taste of what had turned him so bitter.

“Hey,” he murmured, his hand raised in a slight, goofy wave. That he was so stunned by her that that was the most he could say every time they met always made her heart flutter, and this was no exception. But she couldn’t let herself be charmed by him just yet, not when she intended to be the one sweeping him off his feet.

“Rum,” she started slowly, taking his shoulders and sitting him down behind his counter, perching herself on the edge like she usually did. “We need to talk.”

Just like that, all the excitement in his face drained out, as well as the slight smile that was starting to grow on his lips. His eyes burned cold, and he turned briskly away from her, more a flinch than a nod of his head. No one else would’ve noticed the change, used to seeing his eyes grim and mouth set in a steady line, but Belle knew better, especially about that particular face of his. He was heartbroken.

“I understand,” he muttered, careful to keep his eyes off hers. “It’s… it’s better for you this way, I know.”

Her heart plummeted an inch. “What?”

He seemed more stricken by her confusion than she was. “It was only a matter of time, I always knew that. This doesn’t come as a shock. Before you lea… before you go back to the library, though, I… I just want to say something.” He still didn’t look at her, but she still felt as if his gaze were boring holes into her soul. “I truly, truly cherished every moment we had together. I only wish I could’ve been a better man for you.” 

He turned fully away from her, and she fought back the urge to start sobbing again. He couldn’t really think she meant to break up with him, could he? Her thoughts turned back to the sad young man, crying into his palms as he prayed for the ability to satisfy his wife. Yes, yes he really could. 

“Rum, you don’t understand! That’s not –”

He held up a hand to cut her off, and, again, she knew that she might’ve been the only person who would notice how it shook.

“It’s alright, love.” He cringed at his own words, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “I mean… I’m sorry, I meant to say it’s alright Belle. I can take a hint. You don’t live as long as I have without knowing what a woman means when she says ‘we need to talk’. You can go ahead, now, I won’t keep you. I’m sure you wanted this to be brief.”

She couldn’t take it anymore – if he said anything else, she was going to start crying again, and then he really would believe she was abandoning him. She took his arms in her hands, trying not to focus on how they trembled, and turned him around to face her, leaning in immediately with her lips. He was still for only a moment, obviously shocked by her actions, but then he was gripping her shoulders, tugging her tight to his chest and working her mouth like he never had before. His tongue slipped between her lips, smoothing the roof of her mouth, and she felt like she might faint. He was kissing her like he’d never get the chance to again… and, with a shock like ice water, she realized that probably was what he thought. 

She drew back quickly, leaving him gasping for breath and pulling at her to make her stay. How could his wife dismiss him so cruelly, how could anyone, when there was such a well of passion and love inside of him that was just begging to be touched?

“I’m not leaving you,” she whispered, hoping that if she smiled big enough it would ward away her tears. “I just came by to ask if you wanted to have supper with me tonight. It doesn’t have to be hamburgers. Actually, we don’t have to eat at all. I just… I miss waking up and seeing your face. I miss sitting next to you at the table. I miss being next to you. You make me so happy, Rum. Even when I’m mad at you.”

His eyes sparkled brightly, brown giving way to something of the gold she remembered, but, like her, he covered his tears with a nonchalant façade. “You make me happy too, Belle. I’d love to be with you tonight.”

Belle grinned, her first real smile since she’d walked through the door, and took both his hands in hers, wrapping them together and looking dead serious into his eyes. “I love you, Rum. A silly little fight isn’t going to change that.”

A gust of air pressed out of his lungs and he was holding her even tighter to his body, arms looped around her back. “I love you too, Belle. So much.”

In the end, she decided it would be best to keep Regina’s mirror a secret from him. If he knew what she’d seen, it would only humiliate him and make him feel as pathetic as he had with his wife. But that didn’t mean she was going to give the mirror away – whether he knew about it or not, this mirror was going to help them put the pieces back together, and, maybe, show him that she wouldn’t leave if ever he told her his darkest secrets.

And, besides that, the mirror was a lovely way to see her true love naked without having to deal with the awkwardness and fears she wasn’t sure either of them was ready for yet.

She made a mental note to have Henry give Regina her thanks…


	2. Thirst For Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle revisits one of her forgotten dreams...

Thirst For Earth  
Because no one has more thirst for earth, for blood, and for ferocious sexuality than the creatures who inhabit cold mirrors. – Alejandra Pizarnik

Part 2 of the Mirrors Saga

2x6-Tallahassee 

Rating: NC-17

Warning: imaginary but extremely explicit smut of the dubious consent variety

Author’s Note: For all of you who asked for a sequel (lol, I almost typed out sexquel) to “Ice That Doesn’t Melt” without realizing I already had one in the works. Sorry it’s so late - one of the dangers of living where I live is that internet service is terrifyingly unpredictable. Also, thank you to my two best tumblr friends, nothingeverlost and ddagent. Thank you so much for your inspiration :) 

Her cheek burned where he hit it, and consciousness slid out from under her as the hook-handed man stood over her body. He raised his lone claw.

“So pretty, yet so useless…”

Belle jolted awake, gripping her comforter and curling her legs close to her body. It had been years since she’d thought of that man; what brought it up now?

 

A streak of lightning split the sky, and Belle jumped up like a skittish cat. She quickly turned on the lamp in her room, and, when that wasn’t enough, flipped the overhead switch and went into her living room. Just in time, too, since she’d barely touched the sofa when a clap of thunder followed the light. She shivered, and, without really realizing it, reached for the cordless phone on her coffee table. Only when she’d pressed the first three buttons in the sequence she’d memorized did she drop it. It was 2:00 AM, if her clock was correct, and she was sure her Rum wouldn’t appreciate being woken up when he’d only have to get up again in four hours to go to work. Besides, it wasn’t as if he’d know who she was talking about if she explained to him her nightmare of the man with the hook. It was a delicate line she walked now, trying in equal parts to convince him of her love and loyalty as well as protect her own mental and emotional stability. And, sadly, her health could easily be compromised if she became so dependent as to call him every time she had a bad dream. It would reflect badly on all the work they’d put into their relationship if she caved and made it harder for them.

Reflect…

She almost smacked her head for her stupidity – of course, she could use the mirror to calm herself down.

It was understandable, she supposed, digging under her coffee table for the silvery hand mirror, that it still wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when she thought of calming herself down. After all, it had been given to her by the woman she considered her worst enemy, and the first thing she’d ever seen in it was her true love’s hateful wife. Still, she’d gotten better over the past few days at picking which memories to watch, finding that a simple thought could bring what she was looking for to the surface. Some of them were mundane things like watching him work in his tower or spin his wheel, others exciting adventures and deals he’d made but never told her about. And others still, she reminded herself blushingly, involved him wearing quite a bit less clothing than she was used to. The point was, though, that she could still see Rumplestiltskin and be relieved of her nightmare without having to bother the man himself. She smiled when her fingers touched cool glass, and she brought the oval disk to her face.

“Show me Rumplestiltskin,” she said firmly. 

Visions of purple smoke and black clouds floated into sight, shifting and twirling behind the glass at a dizzying pace. She almost swore for a second that one of them held the face of the hook-handed pirate from her nightmare, but she brushed it off as her imagination and flicked it away. More images arose to take its place, most of them containing a slight man with scaly gold skin stripping out of much-too-tight leather pants. Her cheeks turned red, and she instantly veered away from those, too – pleasant though the images of her Rum sleeping with no clothes on were, they would hardly be calming. No, what she wanted to see was something that had the both of them in it, something that could make her smile.

It took her barely a minute to find what she was looking for, and she grinned widely at the sight of her and Rumplestiltskin standing side by side, looking just as they had when they’d first met. 

But that couldn’t be right – this had to be at least half a year before then. She knew this because the green dress she wore had been given to a little girl whose father was killed by ogres at the war’s onset. Her brain finally caught up with her eyes, and she felt an extreme rush of wooziness as she understood.

She was watching Rum watch her through his own magic mirror, pressed so close against the glass that it seemed they were standing right beside each other. What on earth was he doing?

The cloud zoomed away to follow the mirror-Belle’s trek down a hallway, repeatedly pushing Gaston away from her with claims of a headache and too much to eat. Whether he understood what she really meant or not, he finally clomped away, and Rumple smiled wickedly when Belle cussed at him under her breath.

The Belle of the present sighed wistfully when her past self opened her bedroom door. She hadn’t seen that room in over thirty years, and a part of her longed to go back to that childhood. But this wasn’t about her wishes (at least, she didn’t think so); this was a memory Rum had purposefully hidden from her, she was sure of it, and she longed even more to know why.

Belle muttered glumly as she undid her hairpins, first about Gaston and then about her corset which had constricted all feeling in her chest. Rumplestiltskin licked his lips hungrily when she massaged her breasts to relieve the tension, and the present Belle shivered. For once, she regretted sleeping in the nude for her entire life before Rumplestiltskin, if only for the way his fixed gaze made her insides stir – he didn’t lift his eyes from her naked body even to blink while she undressed. The affair ended, though, when the Belle of the past wiggled under her heavy down comforter and fell instantly asleep.

At least, she thought that that had ended it. But Rumplestiltskin was now pacing in front of his mirror, deliberating on something if his errant mutterings were anything to go by. Finally, he spun on his heel and pressed his palms to the glass, blackened nails trembling as they sunk into the quicksilver then promptly disappeared, along with the rest of him. But the mirror remained, and Belle saw as if through a clouded window how a stream of purple haze slipped into her dreaming self’s mind. 

The scene changed without any warning, and, though she didn’t know how, Belle immediately understood that she was now reliving one of her dreams. Even more puzzling, though, was that she didn’t remember having this dream at all.

It was a rather strange dream, at least for her, because of its simplicity. There were no vast fortresses or mountains that pierced the sky. Instead, Belle sat in her very own bathtub, pulled out onto her balcony which was hidden from all but the stars. She played with the bubbles in her tub like a small child, blowing them into the air and patting her body down with them. The dark figure perched on the edge of her banister remained unseen.

A lurking lizard, Rumplestiltskin vaulted up the castle wall and down to the floor, overtly showy even as he tried to hide. The heels of his boots just barely clicked against the marble floors, not nearly loud enough for the Belle in the bath to hear. As he moved nearer to the light, it became clear that that he’d dressed himself to intimidate for this dream, complete with his collared cloak and vest of golden scales. His eyes were positively sinful as he took her in, and he crept ever closer, his hands held out before him in a way both terrifying and utterly amusing. He rose over her body.

“I’m dreaming,” she whispered, never opening her eyes.

Rumplestiltskin halted, one dragonhide boot dangling off the stone, his hands hovering just over her head. “Excuse me?”

“I said, I’m dreaming. The castle is too well-protected for you to just waltz in unannounced in real life.”

He seemed honestly stunned by that, his eyes twitching as they tried to decide on narrowing or widening. “Are you so sure, dearie? What if I’m magic?”

The Belle in the tub hummed, and both her present self and Rumplestitskin smirked when she pulled her bubbles in to cover her better. 

“Well, if you’re magic, that certainly limits down the options for who you could be,” Belle answered logically. “And you don’t sound like a woman, so that give me an even narrower selection to choose from.”

He struck an impish pose and turned his voice to that demonic squeak she’d found so amusing from the start. “Open your eyes, then, dearie, and see if you can guess.”

Her eyes fluttered open sleepily, blinking brighter as she took in the strange man before it. Rumplestiltskin clearly expected her to be upset or frightened at his appearance, but neither was he surprised when she merely regarded him with curiosity.

“Are you a demon?”

“Close,” he giggled, that trilling thing that never ceased to make her laugh in return (not even in her dreams, it seemed). “But you must be more specific.”

“A pixie?”

“Oooh, you’ve gone cold.”

“An Agraban genie?”

“Wrong again!”

Belle was fully grinning now, and his own excitement noticeably flagged at her lack of fear. “Who are you, then?”

Not one to be outdone, even when thoroughly annoyed, her Rumplestiltskin swept into a low bow, his arms widespread. “Rumplestiltskin.”

“This is what you look like?” she muttered curiously. “That’s new. You usually look like a demonic pixie in my dreams.”

Again, he faltered, his hands folding back to his sides. “And you dream of me often?”

She shrugged. “Only recently. Ever since the ogres breached the Marchlands.”

He coughed, trying to regain his control of the situation. “And why is that, dearie?”

“You ought to know, seeing as this is my dream.”

His own curiosity faded a bit to be replaced with annoyance. “Humor me.”

The Belle in the bath smirked, but the look wasn’t remotely happy. “I’ve been trying to convince papa to ask for your help for months, but he won’t listen. Every one of my dreams nowadays has me promising you something so you’ll save our land before the ogres come. Foolish, I know, but it’s the best I can do.” She laughed self-deprecatingly. “Especially for Sir Gaston’s strange little trophy wife.”

Rumplestiltskin actually looked momentarily pitying at that, eyeing her with a depth of understanding that her past self couldn’t possibly understand. Just like she expected of him, though, he quickly masked his knowing look with a façade of pure lust.

“How about I make a deal with you now, dearie?” he grinned, raking his eyes over every inch of her body.

Belle sighed. “I would, but the deal won’t hold any water outside of this dream.”

The curiosity return in Rumplestiltskin’s eyes, but, now that she was looking at his face, he blinked it away. “Can you be so sure? As long as there’s a contract to be signed, the deal will be final in any world, time, or place.”

“Well, in that case, I don’t see a – ”

With a whoosh of glittering smoke, a long paper materialized between his claws, rolling to the marble floor.

“Would you look at that, I just happened to have a spare contract on hand!” he gasped sarcastically, his eyes overtaken by mock-surprised gold irises. 

He passed the paper on to her, and Belle immediately began to scan the first lines.

“I believe that this is what you had in mind, dearie. In return for saving your land from the oncoming ogres, this document decrees that –”

“ – that I will stay for you forever as your housekeeper,” she finished.

Rumple looked exceptionally distraught. “Yes. But how do you know that?”

Belle looked up from the scroll. “Because I’m reading the contract,” she answered, as if it should’ve been painfully obvious.

“You’re what?”

“Reading the contract. Are you alright? You don’t seem to be hearing anything I say.”

His eyes flared red at that, and, before Belle could read another line, he’d ripped the scroll out of her hands and thrust a well of ink and a quill into them.

“Do we have a deal or not?”

Her hand hesitated but a moment. A second later, the present Belle gasped as her past self signed her name on the dotted line. So that’s why Rumple hadn’t needed her to sign anything when he came for her – the deal had already been made. Her promise of forever merely solidified it.

Belle handed the parchment back, surprised when the well and feather mysteriously vanished. Rumple gave it a quick once over and giggled when he saw that everything was in order.

“Pleasure doing business with you, dearie,” he said, giving her a mocking curtsy before taking a step towards the banister.

To both his and the present Belle’s surprise, though, that was as far as he got.

“Wait!”

Rumple turned on his heel, one foot comically raised in the air. “Yes, dearie?”

“You… you aren’t leaving already, are you?” her past self asked.

“I’ve accomplished what I came here for. Best as I could, anyway – you’re rather irritatingly hard to intimidate, so I’ll just have to count that as a loss.”

He spun once more to walk out, but, again, Belle’s voice stopped him.

“So you just came here to taunt have me sign my name? That’s all?”

“You should be thankful that’s all I came for,” he answered cautiously, belying his confusion with a grand sweep of his hands. It wasn’t just Belle, then – Rumple, too, had heard the disappointment in her voice.

“But… but what if I want more?”

Rumple froze. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he admonished, but neither of the two Belles missed how his eyes darkened with lust. “And that’s a very dangerous thing to do when dealing with me.”

Belle blushed bright red, reflecting the top of her bubbles pink. “I know what I’m asking for. It’s just… if this really is a dream, meaning that this isn’t actually happening… we can do whatever we want, right?”

“You want to saddle yourself with a monster?”

“You’re hardly a monster,” she laughed. “Granted, I don’t know how I’d react to seeing you outside of my own head, but you aren’t a beast. You just look a little… odd. You’re a fair sight better than my fiancé, at least. Now there’s a real brute.”

“Ah, yes, the pretty boy who couldn’t take a hint,” Rumple grumbled. 

Belle giggled at him again. “I’m not sure that I myself would use the word ‘pretty’ to describe him; brooding and arrogant is more accurate. But, yes, that was Gaston. I don’t suppose you heard what we were discussing before you barged into my head, did you?”

Rumple knelt at her side, twirling about the bubbles in her water with his fingertip. Belle shivered. “Honestly, dearie, I didn’t hear a single thing either of you said.”

“Well, he… he was trying to force my hand, I suppose you could say. We’re bound to a traditional marriage ceremony, so I won’t be able to wed him for exactly six months, but, according to him, that doesn’t mean we couldn’t… well… do other things that married people do with each other.”

Rum’s eyes turned black for an instant, taking aback the Belle holding her mirror. Could he really be jealous over her so soon?

“It wouldn’t be a problem except that our council has been hinting rather heavily that they expect sons from me sooner than later. They’d turn a blind eye to any ‘fornication’ we commit, I think, if my first born was a boy.”

“Where exactly are you going with this, dearie?” Rum asked, moving his finger rather boldly to trace a symbol on her neck. For whatever reason, that action made Belle realize something that she honestly should’ve noted from the beginning. Rumplestiltskin was a sorcerer, a possessor of magic beyond belief, but instead of invading her bedroom in reality and having his way with her, he crept into her dreams where no real harm could be done. It was still wrong, still cowardly, but, knowing him as she did, she couldn’t help but be impressed – even her so-called “monster” had his limitations.

“Where I’m going,” her other self interrupted, “is that, while I’d never compromise myself in real life… I have you here now. If this really is just a dream, it couldn’t hurt me any to be prepared for whatever Gaston has planned for me, could it?”

She expected him to dally, to play with her a little more and make her ask for exactly what she wanted. But he didn’t linger in the slightest. Quick as a snake striking, his hands were on her breasts, massaging them through the bubbles and flicking her nipples with his thumbs. Both Belles gasped, the present one with a bewildering mixture of pride and disappointment. This wasn’t the hesitant man whose wife constantly berated him, the gentle one who prayed to be a good lover. No, this was a powerful man, full of experience, who wanted to devour the young thing in the bathtub. Immoral as the scene was, Belle couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation. . And her old self seemed much the same. She’d never seen such passion in her own eyes, such frantic shaking or shivering hands. She was almost embarrassed. Almost. 

“How do you want this?” he whispered against her earlobe, sucking it between his golden lips. “Do you want me to hold you here, ram into you so hard that you won’t be able to walk straight for a month? Or how about I pull your legs over the side and lick you out?”

“Whatever you want,” she moaned, bucking deliriously into the air. “I just need something in me.”

Rumple groaned and smoothed his blackened nails down her hips, scraping the curve of her arse before plucking at her clit. Belle released a sound like an animal in pain and thrust her hips entirely out of the water, accidentally forcing her breasts into his face in the process. That seemed to be all the incentive he needed to slide his index finger all the way inside.

“Please, please, please!” she moaned, teeth digging into his earlobe.

“Please what, dearie?” he asked, smacking her breast with his free hand and tugging it up to his mouth for a swift lick. “Is this not enough? I thought you said you just needed something in you.” He flicked his wrist, making her spasm enough to send water splashing over the side. “My fingers are something, are they not?”

“Not that,” she whined, racking her brain for the right words. “I meant… feel something… I need more.”

Rum chuckled at her ear, a deliciously nasty sound. “You have so many books, dearie, I thought you’d know what that’s called.”

She shook her head. “Not those kind of books. Please, please.”

He withdrew his hand an inch and she whimpered, to which he released one of his mad little giggles. “Ah ah. Not until you tell me what it is you want.” He leant in close to her ear and mock whispered, “I’ll give you a hint – I want you to cum around my fingers.”

Belle gasped, bucking faster against his hand. “I need… I need t-to cum. Please. Please, let me.”

He moved both hands away from her, tapping the one slicked with her juices against his chin. Belle felt an odd desire to see him lick it off, and another shiver shook her body. Finally, he removed his mocking hands and took her shoulders, seeming the benevolent ruler as he nodded. “Well, you did ask so nicely.”

He rammed his fingers back into her, three now instead of just one, and, from his other hand, a stream of glowing magic coursed down her body. Wherever it touched, Belle’s skin puckered, almost as if it were emulating his lips and teeth, biting their way across. When the tendrils met with his other hand, disappearing inside her folds, she screamed.

“That better?” he asked, but Belle could hear his own voice shook.

“Yes! Oh, yes! Please, faster!”

“Fuck,” he hissed, and even though the old Belle didn’t know everything that word could mean, the Belle holding the mirror did, and she felt her pulse quicken. Before either Belle knew what was happening, he’d lifted the one in the tub up like she weighed nothing and planted her on his cock, making her scream to the stars. He pumped her twice before spinning her onto her back, splashing water everywhere and knocking her head into the porcelain bath. She didn’t seem to notice, though – by the look on her face, the only things she could feel were pure pleasure and desperation for more.

“I was gonna take my time with this,” he moaned, thrusting hard into her at a blinding rate. “Wasn’t gonna do it at all, but you were just beggin’ for my cock inside of you. Is this better now? Are you better now that you’ve been claimed by a beast?”

Belle’s eyes widened, blue overtaken by black, and her left hand clawed up to his hair to bring his lips to her neck. Vaguely, the present Belle thought it funny that she didn’t try to make him kiss her lips, but couldn’t focus enough to keep the idea for long. 

Rum lifted her legs over his arms, holding them up with the inside of his elbows, and pounded into her even harder, something Belle wouldn’t’ have believed possible if she wasn’t seeing it for herself. His mouth went slack, his eyes pitch dark when he started to lose his rhythm, and all it took was a flick to the place where he and Belle were joined to send them both careening over the edge, her panting and him cussing a storm. 

They laid there for long moments, Belle’s hands massaging his scalp as he moved his own fingers to her core, determined to prolong her pleasure. She whined happily and allowed him to move her wrist to his mouth, licking and sucking on her pulse point before giving her palm a gentle kiss. He slipped her fingers into his mouth, bathing them with his tongue while keeping his eyes totally focused on hers. Belle, both in the dream and out, should’ve been disgusted by the image, but it was rather painfully clear that disgust was the last thing on either of their minds.

“You won’t remember this when you wake, dearie,” he muttered, nipping the tip of her middle finger before sliding it whole into his mouth, an obscene gesture if ever she saw one.

“But I want to,” her dream self whined, trying to edge herself into his lap again. He stopped her with barely any effort, though, and she felt for herself how the dream was beginning to taper off.

“That’s exactly why you have to forget, Belle. I didn’t mean for you to enjoy it. And I didn’t mean for it to get this far. I only wanted to tease, not take.” He let the finger slip from his lips as both they and the tub faded off. “You’ve sold your soul to the devil, dearie. I’ll be back in half a year for my payment…”

The pictures in Belle’s mirror finally dissolved, spinning wildly out of control until she was left with the image of Rum holding onto his own mirror to keep himself upright and her past self rolling in her bed. She couldn’t be sure from her vantage point, but she could’ve sworn that Rum smiled when the Belle in his mirror laughed in her sleep. With a dismissive wave of his hand, though, the mirror faded back to black glass, leaving him staring at himself. His eyes crinkled wryly at the image, and another rapid flick of his hand swathed the mirror in red curtains, leaving him alone once again. He hesitated only once on his way out of the tower, fingers twitching and eyes closed in concentration. A moment later, though, he was shaking his head and straightening his collar. 

“It was just a dream,” he muttered to himself. “That can never happen again.”

Purple fog sealed up the vision of his boots disappearing down the stairs, and Belle, understanding that this was the end of the scene, pulled away from it. It hurt how resigned he’d been as he left the tower, as if it were fact and not paranoia that dictated she could never care for him. Another thing for her to ease from his mind, she thought, but, thankfully, she enjoyed the challenge.

With a quirk of her lips, she slid to her refrigerator and peeked inside. She was right – Granny’s pumpkin pie was still untouched, along with half a pitcher of ice tea. And tomorrow… well, today, would be a great day for an indoor picnic in his shop, what with all the rain. Still, she knew it would be ridiculously hard to be a good girl when memories of his hands on her breasts danced in her mind.

The apples of her cheeks blushed as she moved up her hands to cup her breasts, trying to massage them the way he had in her dream. Maybe soon, she’d be ready to find out what it felt like to have the real thing…


	3. Flesh So Naked

Flesh So Naked  
People who live in society have learnt how to see themselves, in mirrors, as they appear to their friends. I have no friends: is that why my flesh is so naked? ― Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea

Part 3 of the Mirrors Saga

2x7-Child of the Moon

Rating: NC-17

Warning: explicit almost-sex-scene at the beginning, even more explicit sex scene at the end

Author’s Note: Man is this one monstrously long. Also, I didn’t mean for the saga to progress so quickly, but here you go – part 3 and already there’s a legit sex scene. I’m sure that no one will complain ;=) Before I let you get to the fic itself, I’m going to head off any flack I’m bound to get for Belle’s characterization. For one, I don’t think of her as a weak character – far from it. Apart from Aurora, I think she’s the strongest female character in the series. But I think it’s unfair to say that “I’m a strong person” isn’t compatible with “I was locked up in some fashion for 28+ years and my boyfriend is a demon nearly ten times my age so I’m bound to have issues”. The writers of the show, though, Jane Espenson excluded, don’t seem to have this opinion. That’s the only way I can rationalize the fact that they haven’t had Belle discuss any of this with in-depth with Mr. Gold nine episodes into the second season. So, here’s my take on the reality of her character:

 

She wiped away her tears when she heard the howls outside. Kept them at bay when the hours ticked by and no one came to free her. Blinked them off when David finally escorted her upstairs. 

But now she was alone, in every sense of the word, and she couldn’t stop crying.

Her best friend – her only friend – had chained her to a pole and forgotten her. She knew that nothing was meant by it, that it was only Ruby’s way of protecting her, but she couldn’t rationalize it all away. She’d been locked up for so long, and, now that she’d had her taste of freedom, the feel of cold metal around her wrists gave her nothing short of a panic attack.

She didn’t attempt to be strong, didn’t even consider searching for her mirror for the second-best comfort she could get. She grabbed at the cordless phone, pressing away her tears and trying not to shake, and dialed the number of the only person she felt could help her.

It only rang twice. “Hello?” the voice snapped, obviously angry at being woken up at nearly one in the morning, but Belle didn’t have it in her to apologize.

“Hey,” she sobbed back with a grimace. “It’s me.”

Something shuffled on the other line, and she could feel alertness settle in on him. “Belle, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“I…” She took a deep breath which stuttered over the phone’s mouthpiece. If she couldn’t trust Rum, then everything she’d fought for, all the many times she’d been locked up, were pointless. Bravery will follow, she reminded herself. “I was chained up tonight. In the library.”

She could almost see the fearsome blaze flame up his eyes. “You were what?”

“Ruby, she… she locked me up to keep me from following her. Don’t be mad, please, she only thought she was saving me. It’s a full moon.” Betrayed as she felt, she’d never want Ruby to die.

“That’s no excuse, Belle,” he growled. “She knows what you’ve been through, she never should’ve done that.”

His concern for her, his care, it was all too much. She was all-out sobbing now. “It wasn’t just the betrayal, Rum. I was alone in a place where I thought I was safe, and everything came flooding back. I wasn’t in the library, I was in a cage while Regina dragged me off, stuck in a cell counting down the days since I’d last seen you. And I was all alone, Rum. There wasn’t anyone to help me, and… hello?” The other end had gone totally silent. “Rum? Hello?”

The line went dead, dissolving into an irritating sequence of beeps. Belle curled instinctively into the tightest ball she could manage. This couldn’t be happening. He wouldn’t abandon her, too. Never. He promised, he’d promised her –

Knock, knock, knock!

“Belle, let me in!”

She raced to the door, feeling so very small and needy, and wrenched it open. He didn’t take a single step inside, he merely reached in and tugged her into his arms, holding her as tight as he could with his cane pressed between them. She sobbed into his lapel, ignoring the strong scent of burning that surrounded him, and gripped hard at any part of him she could reach.

“I’m sorry, love, I know how you feel about magic, but I couldn’t just leave you alone. I’m so sorry.”

He pulled her in even tighter, somehow managing to get them through the door and shut it. She couldn’t care less if he’d gotten to her apartment via car, magic, or elephant – he was here, and he loved her.

“I thought you’d hung up on me. I thought you’d left me, too.”

“I’d never leave you, Belle,” he swore, rubbing circles into her back. “I may not be good enough for you, but I will never, never leave.”

She didn’t remember making the decision to move, but she blinked and, suddenly, her mouth was glued to his, licking her tongue along the seam while she sucked on his bottom lip. He moaned, caressing her hair, her back, her arms, whatever he could reach while they kissed. His ferocity in this never ceased to amaze her, but, right now, she didn’t care for being amazed. She just wanted to feel whole, and real, and not alone. 

Belle had hoped that she was subtle enough that he wouldn’t notice, but, when the backs of her knees hit the couch she’d walked them to, he separated their lips with a loud smack.

“Belle, what’re you –?”

She didn’t let him finish. If he asked her something now she’d have to think about, and, if she thought about it, they’d have to stop. And she wasn’t going to stop. 

She hooked her leg behind his bad one and, gently as she could, nudged him forward, leaning so that he landed atop her on the couch. She tried for his mouth again, but he stopped her, turning his head just a second too quick.

“Darling, what is this?”

It wasn’t an unreasonable question. They’d kissed, before, usually with her being the instigator, but they’d never done anything past that. Their first kiss in this world, the one by the well, was by far the most physical they’d been over the last few months. The fact that she already had him between her thighs, not to mention the despair and hysteria she was sure was written all over her face, was more than a good cause for worry. But she couldn’t let him think, couldn’t let herself think, because the moment she did, she’d remember how he left her the last time, rotting in a cell after he’d cast her out. He might’ve thought her dead, but the wounds were still there, and she wasn’t opening any more tonight. He wouldn’t leave her again. She would make them as close as two people could be.

Where the nerve to do so came from she didn’t know, but, with a firm tug on his wrist, she’d moved his hand under her shirt and over her breast. “I want to be loved,” she answered meekly.

The feel of almost bare skin under his hand undid him. He rolled her over, pressing her hard into the couch, and she growled low in her throat – this was what she needed, this is how she needed to be held. A litany of filthy words, all about how they shouldn’t be doing this but her lips were too delicious, entered her ear, but she might as well have gone deaf. His hands had added themselves to the mix, and one was gripping tight around her breast and thumbing her nipple through the fabric. Her loud moan broke the spell.

“Love, Belle, no. We can’t do this. It isn’t right.”

Those were the last words she wanted to hear. He was near-obsessed with her breasts, she knew, so she thrust her chest forward. With his face pressed between them, maybe he would lose his control and stop fighting it. 

She thought he’d finally caved when he turned his head to bite – not nip – at her through her bra, so hard she could feel it to her skin. Her eyes rolled back, but not enough for her to miss him curse and jerk away. 

“Love, no, stop.”

He yanked his arms out from under her, careful not to let her fall, and jumped to his feet.

“Do you even know where this is going, sweetheart?”

She glared at him, but only for a moment – she didn’t want to fight with him, she wanted him to stay. “I’ve read books about this, Rum, I know what I want.”

“Belle, you’re distraught. You aren’t thinking clearly, you don’t know what you want right now.”

“I want to be with you,” she pleaded, emphasizing every word so that there was no way he could misinterpret her words. 

“I’m not forcing your first time like this, Belle.”

“You aren’t forcing me, I want it,” she retorted, wetting her lips like she’d seen him do when he wanted to make her hot. Anything to feel his skin on hers. “I love you.”

His eyes fluttered closed, and some part of Belle swelled with joy that her love was more erotic to him than her body. “I love you too, Belle. So much. You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed of this. But you don’t want this right now.”

“But –”

“I don’t mean that you don’t love me. I still don’t think it wise, but I’ve accepted that you really do love me. But you don’t want this. You don’t really want to take that step right now. Darling, you haven’t even taken your clothes off in front of me before. This is too much.”

She sobbed, and that only upset her more. She just wanted his skin back on hers, she wanted him to make her forget, to make her feel loved. She must’ve said the words out loud, though she didn’t realize doing so, because he took her face in his hands and answered,

“I know, love, I understand.” She might’ve given in to a bitchy comment that he couldn’t possibly, but the look in his eyes made her quiet – there was such pain there, too much knowledge of what it meant to be totally alone. “I promise you, Belle, on my very soul, that you’ll never be alone again. I will always be here for you.”

She smiled, her first real one of the night, and kissed him deeply, trying hard to distance their bodies so he wouldn’t still think she was desperate. “Thank you for being so patient with me,” she muttered, her throat raw from crying. “You’re so good to me.”

He shook his head dismissively. “I’m no such thing, Belle. I’m just trying to repay you for staying with me despite everything I’ve ruined between us.”

“You haven’t ruined anything.” She sighed, feeling like smacking herself in the head. “But I might have. You must think I’m a slut for how I was just acting.”

His eyes turned stone serious. “Don’t ever insult yourself like that. You weren’t anything close to being slutty. You were alone and scared and I was here. To be honest, I’m actually far more flattered by that than I ought to be.”

She grinned again and let him press a quick kiss to her lips, but was confused when he reached for his cane and began to walk away.

“But I am sorry for how this turned out. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

He headed for the door, slow even for a man with a limp, and that gave her ample time to catch up. She stopped him with a hand on his wrist before he could go any further. “Could… could you stay?”

He shook under her grip. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Belle.”

“Please, Rum,” she whimpered. “I… I don’t want to be by myself tonight. And I miss sleeping beside you.”

That was all it took for him to give in.

—————————————————————————————————————

Laying in bed with Rumplestiltskin was the most comfortable she’d been since she’d left his home three weeks ago. They lay face-to-face, talking through the storm and holding each other close. The tears, which still came sporadically as they lay together holding hands, had made sticky trails of salt all over Belle’s cheeks, though, and the moisture was beginning to tighten and itch. She longed to wash off her face before succumbing to sleep, but she refused to move while he still cuddled her close, so peaceful and loving in his words. Somehow, though, she waited until his eyes closed and his breath evened out before heading toward the bathroom.

Just as she crossed the threshold and had the door shut behind her, Belle’s knack for knocking things over returned tenfold. She’d forgotten that she’d stripped off her heels next to the sink when she’d walked in earlier, causing her to trip into the wall on her right. Her arms flailed as she tried to keep from falling, somehow spilling half the bottles on her sink, but she finally righted herself by gripping something cool and glass. It took her a moment, but she finally remembered what it was – Regina’s gift, her magic mirror to the past. She’d almost forgotten that she had it in her bathroom, but it she really shouldn’t have. Lately, she’d taken to bringing it with her so she could watch Rumplestiltskin while she bathed. Not for anything untoward, though – she merely liked to watch him work magic in his tower, the images proving somehow relaxing to her. 

She plucked the mirror from her vanity and sat with it on the edge of the tub, spinning it round to make sure nothing had broken. Rather than broken glass, though, she saw that the surface was already shimmering and distorting with all-too-familiar violet clouds. Instead of stopping on the swirling images, though, a picture expanded within the frame, already beginning to play. Despite that she thought she’d drained her well of emotions for the night, a small bead of worry still settled in her stomach – she’d neither asked to see Rumplestiltskin nor selected an image to view, but it had started anyway. It was no wonder Regina wanted rid of it, she thought, if it really was quite so easy to delve into this world of glass and smoke. Worried or not, though, Belle was possessed by her almost ever-present curiosity. Much as she longed to go back to bed with the real Rum, she didn’t want to waste her chance to learn more about him.

They were back in the village where Rum had grown up and gotten married. It couldn’t have been too much later than the first memory she’d seen – the house looked exactly the same, as did the spinning wheel that Rumplestiltskin currently sat at. Couldn’t have been, and, yet, her Rum looked so much older. The grey streaks that she so loved to twirl around her fingers were back, the lines in his face more pronounced, and his hands, seamlessly spinning the wool into usable threads, were now thinner and frailer. And at his side was a long wooden rod – whatever had happened to his knee had finally come to pass. 

Tap, tap.

“Come in,” Rumple called, voice clear but face racked with terror. It was clear that whoever he was expecting wasn’t anyone good. For a moment, Belle worried that she shouldn’t have watched this at all. She didn’t think she could take it if that was Milah at the door.

But no, it wasn’t his wife. It wasn’t even a woman. It was a small boy, ten at the oldest, with hair like Henry’s and eyes like Rum’s. This had to be his son. She’d never seen the boy before, which made her wonder just how young he’d been when her Rumple lost him. She didn’t know whether or not to be thankful that he hadn’t been a baby.

Rum sighed in relief that it wasn’t someone else, as did Belle once she’d stopped staring, but his eyes turned back to worry immediately at the sight of tears running down his boy’s face.

“What’s wrong, Bae?” he asked softly.

Bae didn’t answer. With a quiet sob, he launched himself at his father, who pulled the boy onto his good knee. “What happened, son? Was it the soldiers? Was someone else taken?”

Belle’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, wondering what he was talking about, but she stuffed it away to ask him later.

“No,” the little boy sniffled, digging his face tighter into Rumple’s shoulder. “Nothing like that, papa.”

“Then what is it?”

For long moments, the boy just shook in his papa’s arms, holding him tight and letting his tears subside. When he’d finally stopped shaking enough that his words would be intelligible, he murmured,

“Papa, she doesn’t care about me. She never did.”

Rum’s face dissolved into a desperate sadness, and he clutched Bae even closer. “Who doesn’t, Bae?” he asked, but Belle could see he had an idea. The gears turning behind his eyes were almost visibly labeled, “How can I tell my boy that his mother loved him without lying?”

Bae sniffed again. “Morraine.”

“Who?”

“The shoemaker’s daughter, papa.”

Rumple deflated, his great worry easing away. “Why would you say that she doesn’t like you? Didn’t you just tell me last week that she sat next to you at the bonfire?”

“Yeah, but while we were playing in the forest earlier, another boy came up to her and gave her a little yellow flower. Yellow’s her favorite color. She looked so pretty with it in her hair. She’s probably in love with him now.”

Rum’s eye’s crinkled with laughter. “And are you in love with her, son?”

Bae sighed. “I don’t know. She’s my friend, and I do love her, but I don’t know if I’m in love with her, papa. I just don’t want her to leave me.”

A look of abject sadness streamed over Rum’s face, but he pressed a small smile back onto his lips to hide it. “Well, you might not be in love with her, then, Bae. You might not be in love with anyone yet. But I promise you this – when you do feel it, you’ll know. Being in love and being loved in return… it’s a miracle. There’s nothing in the whole world that can conquer it.” 

“Like what you and mama had?”

A bitter look crossed Rumple’s face, but he nodded tersely before Bae could notice. “And I’m sure you’ll understand when you’re older, too. Just be patient, and remember that Morraine will always be your friend. Friendship is just as important as love, Bae, remember that. Anything that’s real and keeps you from being alone. Now, off to bed with you. We’ve got an early start in the morning.”

Bae nodded and kissed his papa’s cheek, and, after a moment of staring, gave him a tight hug around his neck. 

“I’m sorry she died and left you alone, papa,” Bae said into father’s shoulder. “But you’ve still got me. And I’ve got you. And, somewhere, she still loves us.”

Bae traipsed off to the smaller room of the building, leaving his father like he’d found him – sitting and spinning. The image faded away as Rum wiped a silent tear from his eye, looking miserable, pathetic, and altogether too lonely.

Belle turned the mirror over and stuffed it under her sink, hoping that Rum wouldn’t find it there. All of the memories she’d seen in the mirror had been useful in understanding her Rum, but, to her, this beat them all in terms of importance. For one, it was the first time she’d ever seen him be a father. He’d torn apart worlds, as well as all of space and time just to find Bae, but it was this little moment of caring that truly let her see how much he loved his son. And Belle found that she’d fallen in love with the boy, too. Even if he hadn’t been Rumple’s child, she still would’ve felt a desire to protect and love him. So much kindness, so much compassion – the only other child she’d ever met with that sort of strength was Henry, and she’d begun to think he was one of a kind.

More than just that, though, she was reminded just how well Rumplestiltskin understood loneliness. At least with her, people were kind and said hello in the street, even if she wasn’t sure they could be classified her friends anymore. With Rumple, though, everything was fear and anger and hatred. He had no one – just her and his Bae. They’d both been alone for far too long, true, but that wasn’t all this was about. It was about how both of them had gaping voids in their hearts, and only each other and Bae, not anyone else, could hope to fill them. Together, they felt whole. 

She took a deep breath to steady herself and turned out all the lights before hopping back into bed. Rum was faced away from her, so she petted his hair and nudged his shoulder.

“Rum? Rum, wake up.”

She had a moment to curse herself for her selfishness – Rum had had just as taxing a night as she had trying to calm her down, and she hated to disrupt what little sleep he got. But, no, when he rolled over, his eyes were just as alert as they always were. It seemed he hadn’t fallen asleep, either.

“What’s wrong, Belle?”

She answered him with a deep kiss, pulling his lips between hers and massaging them for all she was worth. When they parted for breath, she eased her forehead onto his and whispered, “I’m ready.”

“What do you mean, love?”

She considered saying it again, though she wasn’t sure she could totally explain. But a burst of bravery that she hadn’t known she possessed guided her hand, tracing her fingers up his thigh and slowly palming what rested between them. She was surprised, but oddly comforted, when it twitched in her grip.

“I’m ready.”

His breath hitched, body obviously on board with her idea, but he nudged away her hand nevertheless. “We went over this, Belle. I want it to be perfect for you, not this.”

“It will be perfect, because you’ll be the one I’m with.”

His eyes widened with disbelieving longing, but he still shook his head no. “You’re still shaken, love. If I were anyone else, you’d still want this to make you feel whole,” he insisted, but she could tell how stricken he is by thinking she’d choose any man in this moment.

“Is that what this is about?” she replied, batting back her anger. He doesn’t doubt my love, she reminded herself, he doubts himself. “It isn’t about loneliness, Rumple. And it isn’t about me just wanting someone in my bed. I’ve never had anyone in my bed besides you, and never for anything besides sleep.” She saw how lust overtook him at that statement, the reminder he’d be her first in everything, but barged on. “I want this because I love you, you and nobody else. These past weeks have made me realize just how alone the two of us are in the world. We don’t have friends, we don’t really have anyone else we can really talk to.”

“Sweetheart,” he soothed, attempting to pull her close for comfort, but she headed him off.

“That’s the thing, love. It doesn’t upset me as much as I thought it would. I’d gladly sacrifice the rest of this world just to spend time with you. And Bae,” she quickly amended, thinking of the boy with Rum’s eyes, “once we find him. Even if I weren’t alone, I’d still give it all away just for you.” She brought his hand to her mouth so she could kiss the tips of each finger. “I’d choose loneliness, because, with you, I’m never alone. And I’d never really be lonely because you’re more than enough for me.”

He smiled, one of those real ones that quirked both sides of his mouth and made her see just how strong of a man he was. Without any other words, he pulled her body closed and pressed their lips together yet again. 

Although she’d made this decision minutes ago, she found herself trembling uncontrollably. This was it – there was no going back. After tonight, they would always have a piece of each other, and they’d never truly be able to be separated. She felt washed over with relief and pure joy when she realized she wasn’t the least bit frightened. 

Since they’d reunited, Belle had gotten progressively better at kissing, but she still couldn’t quite keep up with him. She couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t want to stop kissing him, especially not when he was swallowing her lips with his, cheeks hollowed out as if he wanted to inhale her. It was made even more difficult by the fact that he’d somehow divested her of her shirt and was working on her bra. Not one to be left behind, she did the same with him, caressing her way from his shoulder blades to the taut muscle between his hips and abdomen.

With a gasp, he wrenched away from her, his eyes taking in their fill as she did the same. He was a thin man, she knew that, but he was all sinewy muscles and tanned skin, impressive even if he wasn’t however-many-years her senior. She gave in to a little fantasy and kissed the hollow of his throat before settling back.

“I-I’ll try to be good, make it good for you,” he stammered. She tried not to giggle at the way his eyes fell to her perked nipples every few seconds. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll try. I’ll try so hard.”

She kissed him quickly on the lips to distract him. “You’ve done this before, it’ll be fine. Besides, I love you. Having you with me at all is good for me.” Her Rum blushed like a schoolboy and nudged the bow of her lips with his nose. “Honestly, I’m more worried that I’ll disappoint you.”

When he dropped his gaze this time, he did so unabashedly. “Not bloody likely.” She felt the flush run all the way down her chest, even more so when he licked his lips at the sight. “And I’m no expert either, love.”

“We’ll learn together, then,” she smiled, and the look she got in return was more than worth it.

Together, they removed each other’s pants and socks, avoiding looking at each other just yet as if they were unwrapped presents too beautiful to look at full on. Instead, the clung together ever tighter, skin against sweaty skin, and touched.

He threaded his fingers through hers and guided her palm across her own body, smiling shyly when they plucked her nipples into hard nubs together. Nothing had ever felt so sweet. “Have you ever done this, Belle?”

She shook her head, confused. “No, you’re my first, remember?”

Rum snorted. “I didn’t mean that. I know I’m your first, love. I’ve been telling myself that since you tackled me on the sofa.” Belle laughed and he tweaked her nipple as punishment. “What I meant to ask was, have you ever touched yourself?”

Belle’s cheeks tinged with pink. “Oc… occasionally. Never like this, though.”

“Show me what you do,” he asked, his eyes filling with dark chocolate lust. “Touch yourself for me, love.”

Nervously excited, she moved her hands from under his and brought one up to her chest and the other to her legs. While she traced patterns on her breasts and the very top of her hips, he slid down her body, eying everything like she was a five-course feast set out just for him.

“Where are you going?”

“You’ll see, love,” he answered, pressing a reverent kiss to the left of her bellybutton. “I’m just making sure that you’re ready for this.”

“But I already told you –”

“Not… not emotionally ready, Belle.” If she wasn’t looking at him, she never would’ve believed it, but her Rum was blushing. The red of his face even rivaled the shading of her own. “Just give me a moment and you’ll understand. And don’t stop touching.”

He licked his way just a little bit lower, getting closer and closer to the place that ached for his touch, and, to compensate, she followed him with her own fingers. She’d only been bold enough to do this part a few times herself, but she remembered how to flick soft and quick against her opening to make herself wet. He moaned, and the sound reverberated against her core.

“Eyes on me, Belle. Just keep your eyes on me, and keep touching,” he commanded softly, the lower half of his face disappearing between her thighs.

Pleasant as it was, she didn’t quite understand the point of his actions until his tongue cleaved her in two, swiping through her moistened flesh and drawing some of it into his mouth. Words left her when all she wanted to do was thank him for this new feeling, but it wasn’t just the one lick – it was more, perhaps hundreds. Her head went foggy with pleasure as he took her finger between his, helping her caress the sensitive spots between her legs. Then he wrapped his lips around some part of her – her clit, her brain supplied, reminding her of the books she’d read – that made her see stars. She jerked and writhed in his grip, only the strength in his arms keeping her still, as she felt something strong build inside of her. She’d reached this place many times before, but never had she gone over the edge. That was no longer true, though, when, after half a second’s hesitation, Rum linked his fingers over her mound and pressed the heels of his hands down. She didn’t know where the inspiration to do so had come from, but she wouldn’t have complained even if she was able. Her body snapped taut like a bow string as he licked her in and out, hands folded tight on top of her. He crooned words of praise, telling her how beautiful she was when she lost control and how he couldn’t wait to be inside her, until she was calm enough to speak again.

“What happened to ‘I’m not an expert’?” she panted, letting her head fall back against the pillows.

He chuckled into her and she felt her insides tighten again. How could she already be ready for him after that? “I’m just making sure that everything’s as perfect as it possibly can.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job so far.”

His laugh, a true laugh so unlike his old birdlike twitters, vibrated against her thighs, and she didn’t think she’d ever heard him so happy.

“What next?” she asked timidly. She petted back his hair, scraping her nails against his graying temples so she could see into his eyes.

He grinned, a wicked glance that she knew too well, and climbed back up her body though his hands remained on her thighs. He gave her a slow, calming kiss before shoving one finger inside her opening, knuckle deep, without any warning at all.

“You look so gorgeous, Belle,” he told her, adding one finger, then another, until she had three pressed against her centre. “You’ve always been so beautiful, body and soul. I used to dream I could touch both, but I never thought it would be this good.”

She whined low in her chest, circling her hips to draw him in. “Keep… keep talking.”

Rum grinned, pressing a small kiss to the tip of her ear. “I never would’ve pegged you for dirty talk, love, much as you hate when I twist people with my words.”

“Not the words, your voice,” she answered, arching almost double in an attempt to force his fingers deeper. It was made even harder when he stopped.

“What about my voice?” he asked, obviously dumbstruck, but even that had her blood boiling. 

“It’s beautiful. The way you shape your words,” she hissed when he finally started moving again, “the air almost vibrates when you talk. Even in the old world, I used to imagine you whispering to me. Telling me stories, joking, saying you loved me – everything.”

Rumplestiltskin sighed, massaging the shell of her ear with warm air where he’d just licked. “I do love you, Belle.”

She didn’t know that it was possible to cum three times in one day, much less in the space of five minutes, but she still exploded around his fingers. He licked her neck as a reward while he eased her through it, both of them shaking uncontrollably with lust and love for one another. She thought he would finally stop, finally put himself inside her and make it so they’d never be alone again, but his fingers didn’t leave. He spread them into a wide V, scissoring them together and back apart as he thrust in, holding her leg high with his other hand. Her head jerked forward, her nose nearly bumping his, when he turned his hand sideways and hit something inside her she’d never felt before. Even filled with lust-fueled tears, she could see his face perfectly, enrapt with love all for her. His eyes strayed for a moment, though, to watch his hand enter her body, and she moaned when he wickedly licked his lips.

“Please, Rumple,” she begged, squeezing his hand between her thighs. “I can’t take anymore! I need you!”

“Fuck, Belle.” How was she supposed to survive when even that sounded like a prayer from his lips? “Just a little longer. A little more.”

She bit her lip to hold in her screams as he brought her off again. Instead of stopping to ease her through it, though, he worked her even harder, his palm making an absolutely obscene noise as it slapped against her soaking flesh. Her orgasm hadn’t stopped or crested due to his constant motions, but she came again regardless, clenching so tight that he had to massage her thighs to make her release him. Finally, when she returned to her senses, she rolled them to the side and crawled down the bed.

“You’ve gotten to see me, I want to see you,” she demanded desperately, her fingers burning into his hips.

He looked entirely ready to protest, but he retreated nonetheless, both his head and arms hanging lifeless from his body. He winced, from pleasure or embarrassment she didn’t know, when she reached the hard skin between his thighs.

“I’m not much to look at, love, we can just –”

She silenced him with a deep kiss to his hipbone, licking and biting with her lips as she moved. He growled, and she tongued her way down to the thick sac in the very back, nuzzling it with her nose instead of her tongue. She moved back up to the top, though, undeniably hot and longing to see what she’d done to him. His skin there was dark, even in the lightlessness of her bedroom. It was almost purple, she thought, which she assumed meant he needed release and soon. She’d barely touched her lips to the head , though, when she suddenly found herself on her back, his weight pressed heavily against her body as he humped against her thigh.

“Not yet, love, later, I promise. I need to be in you, please. Are you still ready? Do you still want me?”

Only the last two questions had been meant for her to answer, but she nodded yes to all of it, wrapping her thighs around his waist so that everything touched. They both gasped, but his was a thinly masked string of cusses. 

“Alright. Hold on to my shoulders, Belle. I’ll go slow.”

Neither of them blinked as he sheathed himself inside her, rocking in slow, measured increments. His eyes went pitch black a little more than half way in, and she smoothed his hair so he wouldn’t break from his agonizing pleasure. As for her, she’d always heard there would be pain, a sharp ache that would make it impossible to really enjoy her first time. Belle felt nothing of the sort. A low weight against her pelvis and the entirely new sensation of having something inside her were the only stirrings in her body. Then he stopped, and she realized that the not-uncomfortable jabbing at her waist came from his hips – they were finally together.

“I’m inside,” he babbled, and she didn’t know if he was telling her, reminding himself, or praising some god for letting it be true. She found that she didn’t particularly care so long as he stayed right there and kept talking. “Oh, fuck, I’m inside! I’m all the way in, love, you feel so good. So good around me. Fuck…”

He waited only for her own moan of ecstasy before moving his hips, both of them annoyed when she was so slick that, despite the tight fit, he kept slipping out. They needed more.

She didn’t know what possessed her to do it, but when she let go to re-position them yet again, she twisted his shoulders and pinned him underneath her, feet tucked behind his arse to make sure he stayed inside.

“Belle, what –?”

A sharp snap of her hips cut him off, morphing his question into an incomprehensible shout. She bent forward, seeing how her breasts shook with each frantic hump of her body, and pressed them together before him. His eyes rolled back, his throat unleashing a wretched moan at the sight of them bouncing in his face. He palmed the small of her back and pressed her close so he could pull the orb into his mouth, humming joyfully as his tongue traced patterns on the skin. The vibration made her toes curl. 

He took her by the arms and rolled them back again, moving her knees to knock around his waist. He grunted into her mouth, eyes never leaving hers. “Sweetheart, I’m close,” he moaned, and she felt how his hips lost their rhythm. “How… how about you? Where are you, Belle?”

She tried to answer, she really did, but all words had left her. She knew that this was supposed to feel good, remembered how her own face had lit up when Rum had filled her in her dream, but this… this defied even her imagination. They were so close that she couldn’t tell where he started and she ended. It was perfect. She nodded her head roughly, hoping he’d understand.

He hummed low in his throat and spurred on ever faster, dizzily grabbing her knees and pushing them up to her shoulders. She moaned, eyes crossed, when that made him slide even deeper into her, hitting some spot that made her whole body convulse.

“You’re so lovely,” he whispered, nibbling at her mouth as if he couldn’t quite work out how to kiss her. She completely understood – all knowledge except for how to keep moving her hips had completely disappeared. “How can you love me, Belle?” He grunted again as his head fell to her shoulder. “I must be dreaming,” he murmured, his accent burring into her ear and making her echo each of his moans. “This can’t be real.”

“Real,” she gasped. “All real. I’m right here, love. Love you so much.”

That was enough to send him spiraling over the edge, his hips pistoning hard and rough and totally out of rhythm. Belle wasn’t sure how, but that frantic slipping felt even better, and she felt herself squeeze around him as he helped her find her completion, too. 

He bit her throat and didn’t let go, not even to nibble, holding onto it with his teeth as she rocked out the last strains of her orgasm. It felt wonderfully primal, being claimed by his teeth, his cock, and his arms all at once as they rubbed against each other. Days or seconds later, when both their tremors stopped, the collapsed against the mattress, him too tired to roll off or out of her body and her too happy to care.

“Are you alright, Belle?”

She nodded, her head feeling lazy and heavy atop her pillow. “I feel so full. Like I could sleep for days.”

“Go ahead, then,” he murmured, rubbing circles on her hips, nudging his hips forward every few seconds even though he’d grown soft inside her and she was numb with pleasure. “I’ll watch over you.”

She drifted off to sleep with his head on her breast, kissing and sleepily sucking at her nipples as he yawned, “You’ll never know, Belle. There aren’t words good enough for me to ever explain how deeply I love you…”


	4. Full of Fools

Full of Fools  
The world is full of fools, and he who would not see it should live alone and smash his mirror. ― Claude Le Petit

 

Part 4 of the Mirrors Saga

2x8-Into the Deep

Rating: NC-17

Warning: very explicit semi-rough wall sex

Author’s Note: … aaaand we’re back to sad again - sorry guys. But at least you get hot sex at the end :) Some… very, very hot sex… yeah, I don’t know what happened here, the sex scene reeeeeeeeeally got away from me. And sorry about the wait :S

 

It was foolish of her to be jealous. In her mind, in her soul, she knew that. Rum was worried about Henry – for all of his evil, he had a soft spot for children. 

But she couldn’t help it – the facts remained that he’d abandoned her for the woman who held her hostage for 28 years. Feeling a little bit betrayed was more than understandable. It didn’t make her feel less guilty about it, but at least she knew she wasn’t being irrational. Not yet, at any rate.

As much help as it had been to her and Rum over the past months, Belle’s first and last instinct was to take her magic mirror, the gift Regina had granted her, and throw it from her clock-tower window. Or just smash it inside, at the very least – it wouldn’t kill her to sweep up a few shards of glass.

A vision of purple smoke, barely a thread, wisped into the air from Mr. Gold’s shop. That shouldn’t hurt her – she didn’t hate magic, after all, just the misuse of it. But hurt it did, if only for the fact it was something he and Regina shared and he and Belle did not. 

Belle’s fingers curled around the face of the mirror, digging at its glass surface. She didn’t care if it was childish, moody, or insane – for a moment, she just wanted to vent her frustration without first talking herself out of it.

She threw open the window, launched her arm back, and –

“Belle.”

The mirror slipped in her grip, clattering harmlessly to the rug on her floor.

“Rumple?”

She spun around, looking for him on the couch, in the kitchen, by the TV. Her brow wrinkled – he never magicked himself into her apartment, and she would’ve heard him open the door.

“Right. Well, you can rest assured I had nothing to do with that tragedy.”

That was Regina’s voice, but not as she’d heard it in months. She spoke with the regal demeanor of the Evil Queen.

Belle’s eyes flickered to the mirror at her feet. She’d only touched the glass for a moment, how could it have selected a memory? But then, she already knew the answer to that – she’d been thinking about Rumple, jealously considering how much she meant to him. This had to be the mirror’s way of proving her wrong. 

She picked the thing up just as Rumple’s face expanded in the glass, bronze and sparkling once more. His eyes were wide with something far stronger than fear. “What tragedy?” he asked slowly, teeth almost clenched. 

Belle’s breath stopped – she knew, even without having seen or heard any of this before, what was happening. This was the moment that Rumple explained to her that first night, the night she’d cried in his arms and asked why he never looked for her. This was when the queen told him she was dead. 

But that wasn’t all. She gasped when Regina leant closer to her Rum, eyes wicked with delight as she recounted the false details of Belle’s demise. He said Regina told him she was dead. Just dead. The words “scourges” and “flaying” never once came up. 

He looked so small, Belle thought. She knew he wasn’t a tall man, but, in this moment, he looked miniscule, especially next to Regina who was all but gloating with wicked delight. “You should get a new girl,” she told him, both her lips and hips jutted out seductively for his perusal. He never looked at them. He stood, small and slight in her shadow, and lost his fight against the agony in his eyes. Belle felt herself break when he replaced his Holy Grail with her cup, filling it with his tears. It seemed cruelly poetic to her, seeing that the Grail itself was filled with the tears of a man Rum had called Jesus.

She expected the memory to end. She’d seen what she needed to, after all – when given the choice between her dead and Regina alive, he picked the former and always would. It didn’t taper off, though. It didn’t even fade. Instead, the glass refocused on Rumple’s eyes, set now with frantic determination as he reappeared in his tower, tearing down spell books left and right. He knew what he was looking for, though Belle hadn’t a clue, examining the mirror more closely to look for some hint.

“Bring her back,” he muttered to himself, pulling them out at random now. “Something, please.”

It happened too fast for Belle to read the title, but she recognized the book as an old enemy. She winced away from the familiar images of zombified corpses, rotting flesh, incorporeal ghosts, and surreal monsters that inked up the pages. She’d made the mistake once of asking him what sort of spells this book hold, desperate to talk with him about something, and had been disgusted and horrified when she understood. “No magic can bring back the dead,” he claimed, though she remembered the wry smile on his lips when he said it. “But you can bring back someone’s form, keep it with you for all eternity if you wish. Seldom do – they go mad long before forever comes around.”

It didn’t take a genius to understand what her Rum was trying to do – madness or not, he was bringing Belle back. Bringing her back to life, because he thought that she was dead.

Belle’s heart actually hurt her as she watched him dig through his ingredient stores, not even pausing to wipe the tears out of his eyes. He muttered to himself as he worked, naming off the potions he’d need until he reached the final item of the list.

“’Something belonging to the deceased’,” he read, whimpering when he reached the last word. “Something of Belle’s.”

Another swirl of magic in he was deposited in her old room, already rummaging through everything he could find. The clothes in her closet had always been his, created by magic or someone else’s from a deal gone wrong. He slammed the door, looking now under her bed, almost on his belly as he hunted.

“Belle, please, you had to leave me something!”

He tore the drawesr out of her dresser, fumbling through the cloth for something that was hers. But everything there, even the pins for her hair, had been crafted by his magic. Belle remembered well – she’d left his castle wearing everything she owned.

He ripped the carpet in half, tore the bed and pillows to shreds, crawled through her vanity and wardrobe. It hurt to watch this, to see the most powerful man in their world reduced to little more than a sobbing madman. But she couldn’t look away – this was the confirmation she’d asked for, and it was her own fault if her heart broke in the process. 

It took only minutes for Rumple to realize the truth that Belle already knew. Nothing of hers remained, nothing that he could use to track her body or reanimate her soul. If only he knew the truth.

“Please… please…” he sobbed, bashing his head against the wall behind him. The words eventually became incomprehensible through his crying, and, when he himself could take no more, he hit his head a final time and knocked himself unconscious. He fell to the ground with a thud, curled into a ball by her bed while his scales absorbed the tears.

Belle flung the mirror to the side when his picture dissolved, glad, for now, that it didn’t shatter on impact. It was a cruel thing, Regina’s gift. She sighed, closing her eyes against the palms of her hands –she couldn’t just let that memory wallow in her brain. To ignore what she was given, cruelly or otherwise, would only hurt their relationship when all she wanted was to help it. 

But what could she do here? He already knew she was alive, and they’d already reunited. She couldn’t do precisely what it seemed he needed. Unless…

She wasn’t able to smile yet, not with the memory of him so broken fresh in her mind, but she did push the sadness from her eyes. The clock on the mantle said it was already four in the afternoon – she’d have to be quick. 

After a moment’s rummaging through her kitchen, Belle pulled out a pen and a pad of paper, along with a roll of tape so she could stick the note to Rumple’s door when she was finished. She wasn’t sure how good of an idea this really was – after all, she didn’t want him to think he could go about ripping her soul from its resting place if she died. Rather, she wanted him to know that, even in death, they’d always be together. And the only other thing she’d need to prove that to him was new clothing. Well, clothing of a sort. She blushed at the thought, but banished her embarrassment away to focus on her writing.

“Come by when you’re done,” she jotted, surprisingly legible given how fast her pen was moving. “I have a surprise for you.”

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Knock, knock. “Belle? Are you in, love?”

Belle put on the finishing touch, smiling at her impeccable timing. “The door’s unlocked,” she called, turning off the overhead light. “And keep your eyes shut!”

She could almost feel his bemusement through the door, but, as always, he did as she asked. It was such a small thing, that immediate acceptance, but it was always the small things that showed most how he loved her. 

“No peeking, Rumple,” she said, sneaking behind him so she lead him out of the living room. “I won’t let you bump into anything, so no peaking.”

Thankfully, her bedroom had no windows, meaning that the dimmed lights were equal to no lights at all. Even with his eyes shut, Rumple noticed the change.

“Just because I have magic doesn’t mean I can naturally see in the dark, Belle,” he laughed nervously. “In fact, my eyesight’s been going a bit recently.”

“Oh hush – you’re not going to get away with using age as an excuse tonight. Now, sit on the edge of the bed…” she slowly undimmed the lights, “… and open.”

The look on his face as his eyelids fluttered up would’ve been comical in a different situation. He went through fear, confusion, understanding, lust, and love all in the space of three seconds. Belle felt that she’d succeeded, then, even if she’d only really wanted him to feel the last two.

“Belle?” he asked, voice already deeper.

“Do you remember when you let me look through your shop?” she asked timidly. “That you said I could take back anything that belonged to me in the Enchanted Forest?”

“Sweetheart, I think I’d remember if you’d lifted that from my shop.”

Belle smiled and spared a glance at her own body. The gold lace, specially selected for tonight, revealed more than it covered. It held her breasts up high, showing bits of her nipples and the skin surrounding them through the tatted cut-outs. The bottoms were made of even less material, still the same gold lace but little more than a string from back to front. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but Belle considered it worth it based on Rum’s eyes alone. 

“I only meant that the jewelry came from you. Now, eyes up here.” She meant to sound seductive. Instead, she sounded squeaky as a mouse. “Do you see this comb?”

He nodded dumbly, his eyes nothing but pupils as the zoned in on the green hair accessory. 

“A woman named Mulan gave it to me in the old world. She told me it had given her hope when she was fighting for someone she loved, and that it would do the same for me. I don’t know that it was the comb’s doing, but, ever since she gave it to me, I’ve never once lost hope that you loved me.”

“Of course I love you,” he choked, seeming overwhelmed when she unfolded the comb from her hair and let it cascade down her back. She’d taken special pangs to condition and curl it for tonight, hoping it would catch his attention (and his fingers – she loved to feel his hands in her hair).

“I love you, too, Rumple,” she smiled, bringing her hands to the back of her neck. “I’m sure you remember this necklace – it was the only jewelry I ever wore in our time together. That’s because, at that time, it was the only jewelry that mattered to me. My mother gave it to me before she died.” 

It almost hurt to remove the little chain from her neck, but she reminded herself that it was leaving for a good cause. She held it and the comb in one hand, wrapped around each other to keep them from separating, and laid them carefully on the floor.

“The bracelets I stole from you actually,” she laughed, removing each bangle one-by-one. Rumple’s eyes followed their movement like a moth to the flame, probably not even registering that she’d admitted to thievery. “I’ll give them back the moment anyone asks for them, of course. It’s just, I remember that you used to play with them, kind of like a nervous hobby, when you didn’t want to spin your wheel.”

She held tight against the bedside table, hoping she wouldn’t trip as she rid herself of her shoes. “And these are the first pair you gave me when I moved in with you. I was so afraid I would fall, the heels are so high, but you promised me it would be fine. And I trusted you. It’s a silly thing, really, being able to trust you about a pair of shoes, but it still means a lot to me.” 

She traced her hands up her ribs, not letting them falter even when his tongue darted out to lick his lips and she felt she’d die of embarrassment. Rumple made it clear to her every day just how much he loved her body, and, yet, the nervousness of disrobing in front of him hadn’t died. 

With a tiny snap, her bra fell off her shoulders, leaving her bare from the waist up. She dropped it to the floor and hooked her thumbs inside her underwear. “And this, like you said, didn’t come from your shop. I bought it earlier… just for tonight. It doesn’t have a memory yet, but, after tonight, I think it will.”

The scrap of lace string had barely left her legs when Rumple tackled her, pushing her against the wall in his haste to fill his hands with her body. She might’ve made some noise at the surprise, but whatever it was was quickly swallowed by his lips. 

“I can’t wait love,” he growled into her mouth, one hand in her hair and the other at the buckle of his belt. “Stop me, Belle, I can’t.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” she panted between his kisses. They’d only done this once since their first time two weeks ago, but Belle had already gotten used the thirst she had for him in every cell of her body. She wasn’t prepared for how enjoyable the dirtiness of having him half-clothed atop her naked form would feel.

He slammed her against the wall, pressing his now bare cock against her thigh as he leaned down to tongue her breasts. Her eyes and mouth went wide, unable to keep back the little moans.

“Fuck, how did you get this wet?” he groaned. “I can feel you on your thighs, love, you’re dripping.”

“That a good thing?”

She felt his fervent nod against her breasts. She expected him to take one in his mouth, engulf her as he was wont to do, but his bum leg buckled underneath him. 

“Hold on, Belle,” he murmured, and she relaxed her legs as she expected to be dragged back to bed. She was surprised when, instead, he gripped her even tighter around the waist and, balancing on his good leg and the sturdy wall, hefted her so that he was eye-level with her hips.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head at his first lick, altogether too rough and too erotic for her to do anything but tremble in its wake. He didn’t ease up, either – he seemed intent on devouring her whole.

“I wanted to taste you tonight,” she half whined, fingers digging into the wall. It was hard to complain when his tongue was doing such lovely things to her, but she still wanted this night to focus on his pleasure instead of hers.

Another long lick, from the very back to the bud above her clit, had her shaking to her bones. She keened for him, but, as always, he did as she asked and let her slip back down the wall. He held her still before she could even begin to kneel.

“It doesn’t have to be either/or, sweetheart,” he murmured, nuzzling their lips together as he spoke. It wasn’t quite a kiss, but it was just as good – this way, they literally shared the same breath. “I could taste you and you could… you could taste me, too.”

She didn’t miss how his voice shook, eyes dark and deep as they stared into her soul. She gulped. “H-how?” 

He didn’t answer her with words, though she knew how much he loved to use them. He merely knelt down at her feet, pausing once on the way down to lick through her curls again, and pulled her into his lap. With his fingertips, he pushed her to lie against the ground, kissing her hard, eyes clamped shut, when she complied. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he muttered. Belle nodded yes. “Okay. I’ll move slow – you can tell me to stop whenever you want.”

Belle didn’t think that would happen, but she petted his hair to let him know she understood. He gave her another quick kiss on the lips before turning himself around, laying so that his cock, thick and hard and weeping for her, rested against her cheek. 

It was hotter than she’d imagined it would be, longer too, but her examination was cut short by Rum’s tongue delving into her folds yet again, aided this time by his fingers. She kept herself from going blind with pleasure, but it was a near miss. Only determination to enjoy him, too, spurred her on.

She didn’t know how to do this, didn’t have any plan of action, but she decided that he’d let her know if she’d done something wrong. That in mind, she brought her lips to the slit on his head, covered with clear liquid, and pressed a gentle kiss to it. His whole body vibrated at that contact, so she moved a little closer to his hips, kissing and, when she felt a little braver, licking her way across the skin.

Her hands, dutifully massaging his arse to bring him closer to her mouth, dropped low to meet her lips, grasping his cock and pulling it in timid little strokes. He moaned like she was killing him, and if it felt anything like what he was doing to her own centre, that that wasn’t too far-fetched of a comparison. Grinning like mad from their shared ecstasy, she moved her face down once again, nuzzling him against her cheek from tip to base. She only stopped when the corner of her chin nudged the sac between his thighs.

Belle traced her finger against it, surprised at how different it looked close-up as compared to the drawings in her books. This was what held the seed he spilled in her body. This was what slapped against her opening when he was firmly planted inside.

The thought made her body tingle, positioning Rum even closer to the spot she so desperately needed him, and she moaned around his cock. He returned the sound against her thighs. 

Belle took a deep breath through her nose, determined to keep going even as his teeth joined the mix. She nuzzled his balls once more, touching it daintily with her nose, and grinned when he cussed into the floor. They bobbed against her face, and, without thinking, she sucked them into her mouth, taking as much of the skin as she could. They weren’t as round as she’d expected, and far softer at that, but a single lick down the middle had them dancing against her teeth. His thighs shook around her head, and he removed his mouth from her to scream.

“Stop!” he rasped, turning the last syllable of his cry into a command. Before Belle could ask what she’d done wrong, he was facing her once more, eating at her mouth like he’d been eating between her thighs just before. 

“I have to be inside you, now!”

Belle nodded, unable to do anything else in the face of such passion. She let herself be rolled to her front, arms stretched out against the floor, as he finally pounded into her core from behind.

“So tight,” he murmured against her back, holding her up at her chest so he could fondle her breasts while he rode her. “So fuckin’ tight, Belle. I’m not gonna last.”

She wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to, that she wanted him to give in and lose himself in her body. But, like both times they’d done this before, she lost all ability to speak as he drove into her. 

“You’ve got to come, sweetheart,” he moaned, sounding just as retched as he had in the mirror. Belle pushed that thought angrily to the wayside and held onto his voice, focusing only on the pleasure and the love they felt together. It wasn’t hard, with his adoration in her ears, telling her how much he loved her, how glad he was that she loved him back, how he didn’t deserve a moment like this, how she felt squeezing around his cock, how beautiful she was when she arched her back and came.

Those words, his voice, against her ear was all it took – with another all-consuming spasm, she fell boneless to the floor, shaking as he rode out the dregs of her orgasm. She felt herself screaming his name, even if she couldn’t quite hear it, and he squeezed her tight when she finally shouted that she loved him.

He petted her hair as she came down from her high, whispering in her ear and telling her in other wordless ways how much he loved her. When she finally relaxed, arms folded under her head as a pillow, he came, too, spending himself inside her with a barely-constrained grunt. Both were too exhausted to separate, but Belle liked it that way, and she assumed Rumple did as well. It felt nice to hold him close when he was soft and shaking from his ecstasy. 

She could feel herself succumbing to sleep, laziness bone-deep after being together, but she forced herself awake so she could explain what tonight was about. No time they spent together could never be made worthless, but tonight wouldn’t be half as special unless she told him.

“I want you to keep all of it.”

His hand continued to stroke hair, tangling a few strands around his fingers. “What was that, Belle?”

“My clothes, the jewelry – keep it.”

When he went still, she craned her neck around to look at him. 

“I wanted to tell you earlier, but then you got the wall involved.” He half-chuckled when she flushed. “I just wanted you to have something of mine, something with a meaning, to keep.”

She could tell by the look in his eyes, that same fear she’d seen in the mirror when he faced Regina, that he’d assumed the worst. “But why, love?”

She kissed him as best she could, half-turned around and pressed against the floorboards. “Because I want you to know that we’re together, even when we’re not. You can look at this comb, and this necklace, and my shoes… even this lacy contraption… and you can remember how much I love you.”

Belle thought he looked overwhelmed before, when he’d seen her in her skimpy lingerie and little else – but it didn’t begin to compare to the way he stared at her now. 

“Belle, love… I… I don’t have anything to give you that means as much to me as this,” he finally whispered, throat too tight to allow anything louder.

She shook her head and gave him another kiss, this time on his shoulder. “You love me. That means more than anything.”

His breath caught, but his movements were sure as he unwrapped his arm from her breasts and pulled it out from under her. 

“Take this,” he told her, clumsily pushing something hard and cold around her finger. When he finally let go, she saw that it was his – Mr. Gold’s – turquoise ring. “I wish I had something more for you, Belle, but this will have to do. I want you to take this as… as a promise, from me, that I’ll be a better man.” She could hear the hesitation in his voice, worried about how his next words might be taken. “And, if I live up that promise, another oath that… that maybe we could truly be together. If you’ll have me.”

She grinned, opening her eyes only when he kissed the corner of her mouth. “I’ll always have you.” 

He fell asleep barely a minute later, stilling over her body in exhausted contentment. It wasn’t ideal, huddled on the wood floor with Rumple laying across her back, but it was too beautiful to be disrupted. She took his hands in hers and laced their fingers together, bringing both sets to her lips to kiss. Tonight, it would be her turn to watch over him as he slept.


	5. Minds of Sages and Heroes

Minds of Sages and Heroes  
Books are those faithful mirrors that reflect to our minds of sages and heroes. - Edward Gibbon

 

Part 5 of the Mirrors Saga

2x9 - Queen of Hearts

Rating: NC-17

Warning: as always, prepare thyself for super-angsty smut

Author’s Note: For my fiance, undergreatwhite, and my best tumblr friend anonymousnerdgirl. Just one more part to go, guys!

Oh, and by the way, the fairytale in this chapter is a real fairytale called “Whuppity Stoorie”. I changed the character to the Blue Fairy for obvious reasons.

 

He was gone. 

Belle fought him tooth-and-nail, but, like always, it had to be his way. She was sick of it. Not just sick of it, though – this time she was scared. Scared, and sad, and every bit as alone as she’d been in the cell Regina kept her in. 

She admired his honesty. For once, he’d been entirely upfront with her and confessed all of his plans without provocation. He told her that he and Regina were going to stop up the well to keep Cora out, even if that meant killing Mary Margaret and Emma, too. She said it was wrong. He assured her that Cora would win. And a little something died inside of her when he looked at her and said, “I don’t want to lose you again, Belle. Thirty years is enough. I could never let you go now that I know every inch of your body, every part of your soul. Please, let me do this.”

She let him go. Much as he loved words, he never explained things to her in such terms, never said how much he loved her, only that he did. It stunned her enough to convince that he was serious. 

Now, though, she realized that sending him off might mean she’d never hear how much he loved her ever again. 

Belle cuddled the pillow closer, the one she’d taken to calling his. It was where he slept those nights they were together, and it smelt strongly of him because of it. The doors and windows were all locked, just as he asked her, but they both knew it wouldn’t do any good if Cora did make it through. The witch could find her with a snap of her fingers, and bring the library to dust around her just the same. Belle was starting to come to grips with the sick irony that Rumple’s chance of survival would be better if she hadn’t kept him from his magic. No one would’ve been a match for him in the Forest, but here? He’d been too restrained, the magic was too unpredictable… what if he’d lost some of his power?

She rubbed messily at her face, brushing off her tears in hopes that it might brush away her worry, too. It didn’t really work, but she thought she knew of something that might.

Belle twisted around and took out Regina’s mirror, caressing the glass surface as she brought the wanted image to her mind. It was her favorite of all the moments she’d seen so far, one of the many she’d discovered while watching memories of Baelfire. She’d wanted to surprise him with her knowledge, let him know that she was just as ready to be a parent to Bae as he was. Or a friend, or acquaintance, or whatever it was he wanted her to be to him. 

No, Belle told herself. I am going to show him, because he is going to make it. He has to. He promised…

Belle shook away her tears – the memory had started, and it wouldn’t cheer her up at all if she was dwelling on the present. 

The image opened up where it always did – Rumple, sat at his spinning wheel in the corner; Milah, sleeping off a hangover in the large bunk by the door; and Bae, dreaming fitfully on his cot. All was calm and quiet in the summer night, the only sounds being Milah’s snores and the creaks of Rum’s wheel. But Belle had watched this so many times that she could count down to the moment the silence stopped.

There it was. Bae popped out of bed, panting heavily and gripping his bedsheets. Rum was at his side an instant, hobbling faster than any man with a cane should’ve been able to. 

“It’s alright, Bae, it’s alright,” he soothed, holding his son close. In the opposite cot, Milah snorted in her sleep. “I’m here, I won’t let anything hurt you. Was it another nightmare?”

The little boy nodded, holding his papa even closer. “It was a giant bat, papa. It wanted to eat me.”

Belle recognized the quirk of his lips almost instantly, knowing to look for his hidden smile after so many times of watching this moment. “Well, there’re no bats in here, son. You’re safe.” 

Rumplestiltskin tucked the sheets back around his son, curling the edges so he was comfily nestled inside, and made to hobble back to his wheel. A small hand on his wrist stayed him.

“Papa? I… I don’t want to go back to sleep just yet,” Bae whimpered. “Could you maybe tell me a story?”

Rumple smiled and settled back down. “Sure, son. Just for a minute. What kind of story would you like?”

Bae shrugged, his shoulders almost touching his ears.

“Alright then. Let me think… Okay, I’ve got one.”

He leant closer to his son, hands poised in what Belle had taken to calling his storyteller’s pose. The more theatrical version of it was present even when he was the Dark One.

“Once upon a time, there was a very poor young woman who had only three things to her name – her husband, her daughter, and a farrowing sheep. Every year, her husband took the sheep to the fair, hoping to get some money for its wool or its milk. But on this particular year, the fair came and went… and so did her husband, never to return again.”

“He didn’t love his family, did he, papa?” Bae asked tiredly. 

Rum shook his head no and squeezed his son’s hand. “No, I don’t believe he did, Bae. But I love you, never doubt that.”

Bae smiled and settled back for the story.

“Anyway, the woman worried that she and her baby girl wouldn’t have enough money to make it through the winter since the sheep hadn’t gone to the fair. But she wouldn’t give up. She buttoned up her boots and trudged out into the snow, ready to milk the ewe herself. But it was too late – the sheep had caught the cold, and it was dying.”

Bae’s eyes widened in despair, but Rum ruffled his hair and laughed.

“The story’s not over yet, son. It gets better. For you see, while the woman knelt over her ewe, sure that she’d lost all hope, a tiny blue light floated in through the stable window. At first, she thought she’d gone mad with grief, but, try as she might, she couldn’t blink the light away. Instead, it grew bigger and bigger before her eyes, until it was the size of the woman herself. It wasn’t just a light – it was a fairy.”

Bae gasped, as only a small child was really able to do.

“‘I will help you, my dear, for I have felt your sorrow,’ the fairy told her. ‘Just name it, and whatever you wish shall be done.’ So the woman thought long and hard. She could always wish for her husband back, but who was to say he wouldn’t leave them again? She could wish for a better life for her daughter, but what if that meant she’d never see her again? Seeing it as her only option, then, the woman asked the blue fairy to nurse the sheep back to health and save all its babies. Before her very eyes, it was done. “‘It was a wise wish you made, my dear,’ the fairy said. ‘But I’m afraid it was a selfish one. As such, I will give you my own special gift. To save your daughter from further mistakes, I will take her away and raise her myself.’” The woman was horrified. ‘I will never give up my little girl!’ she cried, beating the fairy back with her broom handle. But the faerie was decided. ‘I will return in three days time, after the fairy dust harvest, to claim the child,’ she said. Before the woman could say anything else, the fairy turned back into a little blue light, and vanished without a trace.”

“What happened, papa?”

“The woman was distraught, like anybody would be. The first night, she did nothing but sit by the fire and cry, having decided that maybe it was for the best that her daughter be taken away. If she was so dull as to trade her for a healthy ewe, what else might she do to the poor girl? But the second night, she was furious. She was determined to find a way to keep her little girl. And do you know how she did it?”

Bae shook his head no.

“Well, it wasn’t with strength, and it wasn’t with steel – it was with smarts. For, you see, she remembered the words of the old tongue, the language the fairies still use to this day. She knew that ‘blue fairy’ translated into ‘Rheul Ghorm’. It was a wild guess, but if she was right, her daughter would be safe from the fairy for once and for all. So, on the third night, when the fairy arrived, the woman yelled the words ‘Rheul Ghorm’ as loud as she could, and demanded that she and her child live a prosperous life and never be separated. And because the woman knew her name, she was bound to answer the call.”

“And they all lived happily ever after?”

Rum chuckled. “Well, all but the fairy, at any rate. Better now, son?”

Bae started to say yes but yawned half way through the “y”. His dad laughed and kissed his boy’s forehead. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Rumplestiltskin picked himself off the stool, limping back to his wheel with the help of his cane. 

“Papa?” Bae asked, just as the memory started to fade.

“Yes, son?”

“I love you.”

Rumple eyed his son with more joy than Belle had ever seen in his old memories. “I love you too, Bae.”

Belle held the glass to her chest when it finally dissolved in a purple cloud. She wished she’d told him about the mirror, let him know that she had a basis for saying “I’ll never hate you no matter what you did”. She would’ve started with this memory had she asked. Ever since the first time she’d watched it, Belle wondered if Rum ever looked back on this moment and realized the irony of his bedtime story. She’d ask him when he got back. That was the only thing still had to hold onto.

BANG!

Belle jumped up, tangling herself in her over-large nightgown. After years of imprisonment, she’d grown to recognize the sound of doors slamming open. 

She rolled out of the bed, stuffing her magic mirror under Rum’s pillow, and grabbed the nearest object she could find. Her bedside light wouldn’t be the best weapon, but at least she could use it as a club. 

Quietly, she slunk through her semi-lit rooms, looking around hopefully even as she knew her Rum was nowhere to be found. He’d never just burst in on her like this. 

Her hands began to shake, tears sliding down her face as she reached the front door, almost hanging off its hinges. She closed her eyes and imagined her true love’s face. “I love you, Rumplestiltskin,” she whispered, brandishing the lamp overhead. 

Belle jumped out the door, eyes scanning left and right for the intruder. But no one was in the hall, the stairs, or the small landing below. Belle whimpered, but not in fear – if this was magic, she doubted it was Rumple. He wasn’t here. He’d lied.

Before she could lift up her lamp again, determined to fight back even if she no longer had a reason to, a strong a pair of arms wrapped around her waist, someone’s head nuzzling against her shoulder. The lamp shattered at her feet, its shade skittering across the floor.

“I love you, too, Belle.”

Belle sobbed – she knew that voice, knew the hair tickling her face. With an almighty lunge, she spun herself around and tackled him to the couch, hugging him as tightly as she could. His lips found hers, sweet and gentle, and Belle couldn’t stand it.

She smacked hard on the chest, enough to leave a bruise, even as she deepened their kiss. “Why did you scare me like that?!” she cried around his tongue, trying to wrap her whole body around his so he couldn’t leave her again. “I thought you were dead! I thought Cora had broken in!”

Belle slapped him again, this time on his shoulder. Rumple was completely overwhelmed, his eyes clearly torn between worry and lust for the woman in his lap. 

“I didn’t mean to, Belle,” he explained, his accent thickening as her teeth dug into his bottom lip. “I was worried that you were hurt because I heard you crying, but when I reappeared in your room you were at the front door.”

She tried to stop her tears from falling but it didn’t work. “You could’ve just magicked yourself into my room to start with. I thought you were gone. I thought you lied to me…”

Rumple pulled her away from him with a groan, disliking the separation just as much as she did. “Love, I promise you I’ll never leave, and I’ll never lie to you again. Never. I’m not gonna let you go so easily, Belle. Not now that I’ve got you back.”

Belle didn’t know where the desire came from, where the sudden surge of need and lust and love had sprung. All she knew was that they needed to be as close as they could be, and the only way she knew how was the way he’d taught her the night Ruby locked her up. 

With a surprising amount of strength, Belle yanked him off the couch and kissed him towards her bedroom, letting him lean on her while her lips did all the work. His shock was understandable. She always let him lead before. He was experienced, she was innocent – it made sense.

She didn’t care about making sense right now. She cared about making love with her Rum. 

Belle pushed into the darkness, not stopping until his knees bumped against the mattress. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, moving her hand to the bulge in his pants as she did. She needed this, and she needed it now.

“You’re going too fast, Belle,” he panted, more encouraging than reprimanding. “You’re gonna get hurt.”

“Don’t care. Just want you.”

She didn’t give him a chance to protest. She sunk to her knees, backed him against the headboard, and took him whole in her mouth, not even bothering to remove his boxers. He moaned, she almost gagged, but she didn’t stop – she wanted him everywhere on her, in her, head to toe, and she might as well start with the top. 

She licked him wet through the silk, sucking at what she could without fully removing him from his clothes. His hips pistoned into her mouth, having lost all rhythm or control, and Belle was grateful – this would work so much better if he let her have it rough instead of only giving her half. 

“Belle,” he groaned, his hands clutching the headboard tight enough to break it. “If you’re gonnae do this, love, take everything off. Please.”

She nodded, lips still around his clothed cock, and hastily removed her nightgown. She hadn’t worn anything beneath it, not because she was expecting this but because she couldn’t bring herself to dress properly. Nothing seemed important if her Rumple wasn’t there beside her. 

She fought back her tears. If she started crying, he’d think he was being too rough and make her stop. Stopping was the last thing she wanted to do. 

He moaned even louder at the sight of her nude body wrapped around his leg. She would’ve smiled under other circumstances, but she was too raw to manage it just yet.

Rum had shed his suit jacket and tie while she was stripping, and her fingers, to clumsy to deal with the buttons, ripped clean through his purple shirt. He pushed the thing back, helping her yank off his pants while she kept her mouth glued to his groin. He was getting hotter and harder against her tongue by the second, and it was the most addictive thing she’d ever felt. 

Neither of them could take it any longer. She pulled her lips away with an audible pop and tore his boxers down his thighs, letting him wiggle them off the rest of the way. She was otherwise occupied.

He sprang out of the material, slapping heavily against her lips, and Belle’s mouth watered. In the old world, they’d have called her a whore for such thoughts. They’d probably call her a whore now, at that. But she couldn’t care less with his fist in her hair and her hands on his arse.

Belle wrapped her teeth around the very head, nibbling it as roughly as she could without bruising or breaking the skin. His legs popped below her, locking into place, and she took that as incentive to go deeper.

His tip nudged the roof of her mouth, velvet iron on her tongue. She wrapped her hand around his base to keep him from going all the way in, not ready to let him cum just yet, and twisted him they way she knew he loved. It worked like a charm – within seconds, he was writhing against her skin, arching his back and moaning when she took him in further. She loved seeing him undone, would love to do it over and over again when she had the chance. But right now wasn’t the time for drawing it out.

Belle lifted her mouth off his cock, diving in for his balls so she could lick them all the way down. Rum shivered, trying to move away before he exploded in her face, but Belle refused. She plunged him all the way down her throat, squeezing tight against his balls with her fingers, and let him cum into her mouth. They both shivered as it went, somehow coating her tongue and lips with the thick, ropy strands, too. 

Belle barely waited until he finished going off in her mouth before straddling his thigh, nipping at his lips with all the urgency she could muster. The way he moaned at the taste of himself on her tongue had her canting against his thigh, rubbing what she knew had to be a trail from her soaking slit in the process. Her eyes flared when her own thigh hit his cock again, surprised that it was once again hard. He had to be using magic – there was no way he was still ready for her. But then, who was she to argue?

With a grunt, she rolled them over so he lay overtop, his thick cock riding against her thigh. She tore into his back, almost sure her nails cut into his skin, but she couldn’t bring herself to apologize. Instead, she thrust her hips up, twining her feet around his arse in an effort to drive him in.

He tried bravely to slow her down again, fear lurking behind the lust-induced love in his eyes. “We should slow down, Belle,” he begged. “I don’t want to hurt you. Never. I need to be gentle with you.”

“Don’t want gentle,” she moaned, arching her back until her breasts touched his lips. He shivered all over at the contact, somehow more erotic than anything they’d done yet. “I need all of you.”

He made no move to do anything, so Belle surged closer with an agonized groan. “Please, Rumple,” she gasped into his ear, rubbing herself up against his cock. “Fuck me.”

Rumple growled, more beast than man for once, and knocked her knees up to her shoulders. He didn’t thrust in, didn’t just fuck her like she’d asked. He plowed her into the mattress. Belle screamed, a sound so unlike anything she’d made before, and, for once, he didn’t try to cover it. He held her up by her shoulders, making sure every inch of their bodies touched, and let her shout all she wanted. She could hardly stop, already cumming from that delicious contact to her core. 

Rum rotated his hips against her mound, driving hard against the bone there to create more friction, and her nostrils flared. Her nose was instantly filled with the intoxicating smell of his breath, his smoky sweat on the tip of her tongue. She felt him inside her. But it wasn’t enough, though – she needed all of her senses to be filled with him. 

“Need… need you to talk me off,” she panted, trying and failing to get more friction. “Please, Rum, please!”

He growled at her, collapsing heavily against her shoulder as if her words had left him spent. But he kept moving, kept sliding in and out of her with that increasingly heavy pace.

“You’re so wet, Belle,” he hissed, “I could slip right out without a thought. So fuckin’ wet. Did you get like this when I was in your mouth, love? Did that make you hot? Oh, fuck, are you hot! You’re burnin’ up around me.”

“More,” she begged, tugging him closer. His eyes went wide, more black than brown now, but he nodded his assent.

“I love you, Belle, more than I could ever put into words. Especially like this, laid out on your back, gripping me tight inside you.” He paused to take a panting breath, pulled out all the way, and shove himself back in. Belle’s head knocked into the wall, but she attributed the stars in her eyes more to his pounding than the pain. “So many dreams about this, sweetheart, about being in your body. Nothing lives up to the real thing.”

He yanked her tight, gyrating his hips maddeningly into hers as he crossed his arms behind her back, tightening his fingers around her shoulders. “Please cum. Can’t take much more.” He pushed in even tighter, eyes rolling back in his head. “Come on, Belle, please, cum. Fuck, Belle, PLEASE!”

His shout, utterly desperate, sent her spiraling over the edge, convulsing around his whole body while every muscle in hers tightened. It didn’t stop, though, just kept building, surging higher and higher till she thought she might explode. He kept whispering “love” in her ear, unable to manage anything more as she bucked under him, legs pulled tight against his body to keep him thrusting. 

She lost count of how many times she came before he finally followed her into the abyss, shaking, shouting, and cursing like mad. Belle held him close through all of it, awash with satisfaction when his heat hit her womb. Even when he stilled, the heat kept coming, brushing against every part of her insides. She could even feel him leaking out of her, so full of love and lust that she was unable to keep him all in.

He hovered over her for a moment longer, eyes shining with love for her, before he fell against her breasts, sliding down further from their sweat. Belle could feel bruises along her back, the same shape as the knots of the bedposts, and she could see the bloody scratches on his. They looked like a pair of soldiers, covered in war wounds and battle scars. Belle thought that was rather apt.

“Are you… good now… Belle?” he asked, pushing back her hair so he could see her eyes. If Belle wasn’t exhausted, she might’ve been turned on again by the sight of him so stretched out.

“You’re here. Of course I’m good,” she panted back, massaging his scalp. “I just need one more thing.”

His eyes met hers again, tired but determined to do as she bade. “Anything Belle. Whatever you need.”

“Take me home,” she whispered, cradling his head to her belly. 

Joy, love, tiredness, contentment – they all warred across his face. But he didn’t seem to give them a thought. For now, everything he wanted was her and what she needed to feel safe and whole.

He barely had to flick his wrist before the magic came swirling in on them. When Belle blinked, they were surrounded by his black sheets and his bedroom walls. Their bedroom walls.

“Love you,” he yawned, arms going slack around her hips. She barely had time to repeat it before her eyes fluttered closed.

For the first time in years, she had dreams instead of nightmares.


	6. Never To Be Trusted

Never To Be Trusted  
“Mirrors,” she said, “are never to be trusted.” ― Neil Gaiman, Coraline

 

Part 6 of the Mirrors Saga

2x10-The Cricket Games

Rating: NC-17

Warning: very explicit, exploratory, ridiculous, angsty sex scene

Author’s Note: Sorry for lying about this chapter guys :( I really did try to finish it last night, but my internet server hates me. Well, that, and I got distracted watching Plunkett & Macleane. But back to the point:

Thanks for reading this guys. I’ve got to say, I never thought this story would get so much hype. Especially considering that this was the first smut I’ve ever written… as in ever. (*somewhere in the distance, one of my followers is calling BS, but I promise I’m telling the truth*) Anyway, I know you came here for the story and not my ramblings, so I’ll let you get on with it :D It’s been a great run!

 

Gold stretched out against his sheets, wincing as his body popped and creaked. He was hardly a young thing, no matter which way you chose to look at it, but he never made this much noise. He really must’ve stretched himself to the limit yesterday…

Yesterday.

He smiled contentedly, remembering what had happened the night before. Belle leaping into his arms, terrified that Cora had killed him and filled with so much desperate love. The way she looked when she was sucking him dry and begging for more, sliding wet against his thigh. How he rode her into insanity on her bed, hard enough to knock them both unconscious. Her asking him to come back home with him. And, even better, the two times they’d made love again before the sun finally rose, tangled around each other and holding hands as they panted in ecstasy until they finally collapsed in exhaustion. It was hardly surprising that his bones cracked when he moved – the real surprise was that he was able to move at all. He wondered – with a lascivious smirk – whether or not Belle would be able to move, either, considering how many times he’d made her cum. 

He was already hard – for all his claims to the contrary, he was still biologically a man – so he couldn’t resist leaning across to Belle’s side of the bed. It felt so right to have her back on his left, her indent and scent in the sheets beside him. It was probably too soon to talk about moving back in together, but he still couldn’t decide if he should bring it up or let it slide. He knew what he wanted to do, but he was trying to go with what he should do – it was the very least his Belle deserved. 

But Belle wasn’t there.

The argument died in his head as he ran his hand down the sheet, trying to feel for Belle’s body. Nothing turned up, but, thankfully, he did hear a noise on the floor. He rolled over a bit further, sighing in relief when he saw her brown curls. The relief was shortly replaced by confusion, though – his Belle was fully dressed, her face pressed to the surface of an ornate hand mirror. 

It wasn’t one of his own – that was his first thought. Most of his had been smashed, either in by the multiple break-ins to his shop, the magic unleashed on their world, or his own enraged hands. Beyond that, he didn’t own any handmirrors. He wasn’t vain in either world – why would he be, looking like he did? – and had no use for mirrors that weren’t big enough to travel through. It wasn’t hard to figure out whom it belonged to, even if he hadn’t noticed the apple tree design on the corner of the silver. 

He bent forward, intent on throwing the thing from her hands, but a sharp pain in his knee locked him in place. Though he felt useless, he knew he had to stop his Belle before she was hurt. Why else would Regina plant her mirror in his house?

The moment he opened his lips, though, Belle moved her own to command, “Show me Rumplestiltskin.”

Gold froze when his own face, lizard-like and demonic, stared into his eyes. He wanted to look away, but couldn’t quite manage. 

Belle waved her hand over the image, sending it swirling into an abyss of purple clouds. Multiples of him sprang up everywhere, spinning in their own designated circles. She passed over the ones of him as a monster, the Dark One, as if he didn’t matter. And he didn’t. Not really. But he’d almost believed that Belle thought he did. 

Her pale little fingers skipped from one picture to the other, obviously searching for something particular. Forcing back his pain and disbelief, Gold stared over her shoulder, trying to figure out exactly what she was seeing. It was obviously a mirror for memories, judging by the shape of the clouds alone. But why were they all his memories? Regina wasn’t aware of half her own story, let alone his. This was stronger magic than he’d thought his apprentice capable of, then, if it allowed her to look into every iota of her arch-nemesis’s former life. The fact that Belle, had taken to watching it as well meant only one thing – she saw him as an enemy, too. 

The knife twisted in his heart.

“Come on, you’re usually easier than this,” Belle murmured, flipping ever faster as if she were scanning the pages of a book. “You know what I’m looking for.”

Her words were like magic. One second, he was marching about in his dragonhide coat, and the next he was standing in a burlap sack and hobbling with his staff. His other arm held a bundle no bigger than a loaf of bread. It didn’t take him long at all to recognize this moment – Milha had gone off drinking again, and Bae needed something to eat. He was small as it was, and Rumplestiltskin feared that one meal too few would end his boy’s life. He went from house to house all night, begging people to either tell him where Milha had gone or give him a cup of milk for Baelfire. No one gave in. The night ended with him huddled in a pig sty, feeding his son with a pregnant sow’s milk and praying it wouldn’t kill him. He cried until the hay stuck to his face. 

Belle’s face reflected next to his, watching as he cried his yellow heart out with a dissatisfied glare. His heart stuttered – Belle, his lovely, perfect Belle – was unhappy with his image. If that wasn’t already enough to rip his soul to shreds, Bae’s face flashed up in the frame. Gold went numb – he hadn’t seen his son since the day he let him go, could never bear to do more than just remember. Even if he was a baby, even if this wasn’t quite the tousle-haired boy he wanted back, he’d remember those eyes anywhere. They always looked at him with such trust. 

“Belle, stop.”

He didn’t realize he’d spoken until Belle whipped around, dropping the mirror onto the floor. 

“Rum,” she panted in relief, that beautiful twinge of pink returning to her cheeks. He couldn’t stand to look at it. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!” 

It would be beyond petty and pathetic to respond back with, “Well, you really did break mine”. He didn’t bother to dress, only pulled the sheets up to save him the humiliation. The pain in his knee was still too great for him to stand, maybe worse now that he didn’t have anything to make it bearable, but he managed to prop himself up. He’d never let her see him be weak again. 

“How long have you been doing this?”

She picked the mirror back up. “Oh, this?” She had the nerve to actually blush at him, her smile bright and completely unassuming. “Since I moved into the library.”

His voice went hoarse with anger. “So you accepted me back into your life only to turn around and ask Regina for a way to hurt me?”

She actually looked hurt; Regina, it seemed, had taught her well. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought it, but, unlike before, there couldn’t be another resolution. They were working together against him. 

“No, Rumple. I was… I was going to wait until you woke up to tell you. See, I’ve been looking for Bae.” 

It was such an easy lie. “Oh, and you had to look for the most pitiful moments of my life to do so? Very keen of you, dearie.”

The word was ash in his mouth. She was his Belle, his love, his sweetheart. He never called her dearie.

“You weren’t pitiful,” she argued, trying to take his hands in hers. He pulled back before she could get anywhere close. “You were a brilliant father, Rumple. Such a loving man. I don’t know how anyone could’ve treated you so cruelly.”

“Shut up!” he shouted. “I don’t want to hear it anymore! Not from you, not my wife, not Regina, not the rest of the whole fuckin’ world! Mirrors lie, Belle! Especially when they come from the woman who locked you up for half your life!”

She shrank back in fear, even as he stayed sitting. For a moment, he felt a shadow of satisfaction rise up in his spine. Belle knew he wasn’t someone to be messed with now. But it was gone as soon as it came, replaced by a soul-deep hollowness. The only emotion he legitimately understood now was fear. Even with all that she’d done in watching his past, the layers of betrayal she’d indulged in, he still couldn’t bring himself to hate her. And that thought terrified him. 

“Just go,” he commanded. “It doesn’t matter, Belle. None of it matters.”

He expected her to slap him, as quickly as she reached for his face. Instead, she caressed her thumbs against his cheeks – he was crying. The instant he caught himself leaning into her touch, he wrenched himself away. 

“Give me this and get out,” he rasped, ripping the mirror out of her hands. He held the handle tighter when he felt it cut his palm – he needed the pain for focus. “I can’t see you right now.”

“Rumple, what are you talking about?”

He couldn’t yell at her, not now, but he had to say something. The problem was that he was once again interrupted.

“Papa!” someone shouted, a little girl by the sound of it. Gold turned his head, ready to cast the wee thing out of his house, but no one was there. 

“Papa, look at me!”

Gold looked at Belle, hoping she’d have some idea, but her eyes were transfixed blankly on the mirror in his hands. Slowly, he faced the thing, too, almost terrified at what he’d see. 

A little girl was racing down a hall, coated in mud and tree bark it looked like. She roared as she bounced off the walls, clumsy as a drunk when she ran, but there was something of royalty about her. Maybe it was the perfect brown curls that fell from her head, or the clean blue eyes that stared out at him. But he knew those eyes…

“That was my fifth birthday party,” Belle murmured wistfully behind him. “I wanted to be a dragon for the night.”

He never appreciated it when he didn’t know what was going on, and this time wasn’t the exception.

“Why are your memories in this?” He turned around in utter bewilderment, only to see Belle crying. “Belle, why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

She gave him a meaningful look through her tears, her lip wobbling as she tried to speak. He tried not to let it hurt him. Fuck, he couldn’t let her keep hurting him. “You’re holding it,” she answered slowly, “and it’s showing my face. I know that you love me, I always do, but sometimes it’s good to be told.”

“Love? Belle, you’re not making any sense!” he shouted back. “If your memories are in this, it means Regina thinks of you as her enemy! That’s dangerous territory! My memories are in it, Belle, think on that!”

A tear finally slipped from her eyes, but his Belle was nothing if not strong. She hopped onto the bed next to him and forced his face to the glass. “It isn’t the memories of your enemy, you idiot,” she sobbed. “It shows the memories of your true love.”

After what he’d just assumed, the idea that he was still her true love was baffling. 

“And that’s me?” he asked hesitantly.

She slapped him in the forehead, not hard enough to hurt but definitely more than shocking. “What do you think!? How many times have I told you that? How many times have I promised you forever? Give us both a break and just leave it for once! I’ll never stop loving you –”

His mouth crushed hard against hers, stopping her just as he heard those words he so desperately longed for. He could deal with the details later – right now, all he wanted was to feel how much she loved him. Thankfully, even when she broke for air, she held him close enough that they shared breath.

“I wasn’t spying on you,” she continued, kissing him hard before separating them again. “Alright, maybe it was spying. But not like you’re worried about. I trust you to be a better man, Rum. I have so much faith in you. But I know how hard it is. So when Regina gave me the mirror, I decided I was going to use it to help you tell the truth. To help you out, because I know you don’t want to tell me everything. I promise you, Rum – I never once felt happy when you were hurt. My only intentions were to help us rebuild things.”

He almost laughed, however wry it would’ve sounded. 

“I know better than most that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, Belle,” he sighed, taking her hands and looping them in his own. “And good as your intentions were, you’ve still seen me at my worst.”

Belle cocked her head in bemusement. “What do you mean?”

“You know, love. ‘You’re a coward, Rumplestiltskin,’ remember? Well, know you’ve seen the real coward that’s buried underneath all this.”

She hauled him in for another distracting kiss, delving her tongue into his mouth for good measure. All thought left his mind at the feeling of that slick little muscle on his lips. And people thought he was the master of manipulation…

“You think that was cowardly?” she asked breathlessly, shucking off her clothes in the process. “You think that marching through a town that hated you to find food for your son was cowardly? Rumple, that’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He helped her unbutton her sweater, much too overwhelmed to come back with a response. His hands tweaked her nipples when he found them, glad that she’d worn nothing underneath, and she grunted into his mouth.

“That gentleness you mistake for weakness? I love it about you,” she said, caressing his fingers even as he did the same to her breasts. “It’s who you really are, wicked and kind, smart and simple, that I’m in love with. Not the sorcerer, not the demon, not the pawnbroker – you.” 

She smiled as she traced her finger over his hips, making his cock spring to attention. “Although, I must say that the silk shirts and leathers didn’t hurt.”

“And the green skin?”

Belle laughed. “It had its own sort of charm.”

He snapped forward like a cobra, latching his lips around her breast. It was bare and perfect and sweat on his tongue, and he wanted nothing more than to taste it forever. He moaned with disappointment when she once again pushed him away.

“You need to stop doing this, alright?” she pleaded. “I need you to just accept that I love you.” 

He smiled even as he shook his head, overcome by the emotion in her gaze. “It’s impossible, love. That would mean admitting that I’m good enough for you, and I’m not. I’m not by far.”

She ground down on him to shut him up again, though they both hissed at the contact. “Then just trust me. You can’t love yourself yet, I get that. But just trust in me that I do.”

He bucked against her slit, unable to control his actions when she said she loved him. He was about to apologize, he really was, but Belle threw back her head in ecstasy and he was lost.

“Fine,” she groaned. “We’ll talk about it later. This now.”

He laughed in approval when she shunted against his hips. The friction still wasn’t enough, but he couldn’t quite manage with his leg so sore. He cussed at himself and drew back up against the pillows, pulling her with him out of absolute refusal to be apart.

“Here, love, just let me –”

He sent a burst of magic through his knee. It felt like lightning ignited his bones, untangling the knots in a way far more painful than the original ache. He always forgot that his mantra – all magic comes with a price – applied to him too. Of course his price would be that he could get it up for her but couldn’t get up.

“Stupid old bones,” he cursed, flinging himself backwards against the mattress. He was seconds away from apologizing to his Belle, but she interrupted him with her lips against his. The pressure of her shapely little arse against his cock made him see stars, and he realized with a jolt that she was straddling him.

“That’s alright, Rum,” she blushed. “It’ll give me the chance to try out something new.”

“What do you –?”

His words died in a hollow moan when she sunk down around his cock, knees perched at either side of his hips and hands on his thighs for balance. Every nerve in his body shocked into life, encapsulated in her warm, hot body and feeling so perfectly alive. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this,” she hissed, sliding down even farther. 

Gold’s eyes rolled back, already too lost in pleasure to come up with a meaningful argument. The closest he could manage was, “Why would you ever want this?” 

“I’ve already told you,” Belle answered. She leaned down so that her next three words were whispered against his ear. “I love you.”

He growled when she rose back up on her haunches, lifting herself so that only his tip stayed inside. Her eyes were locked with his, their noses pressed together, and when she sat herself back down, the blue turned black with lust. 

“Am I doing good?” she panted, keeping that same, maddeningly slow pace as she pulled up and slid herself back down. It was torture of the most delicious sort.

“Wonderful, Belle,” he answered.

“Can… can I go a little harder?”

He nodded his head avidly, pushing her nose aside so he could kiss her again. He’d never tire of her lips, least of all when they touched his own. 

Belle took a deep breath, and rose slowly back up. Gold expected a small change in pace, nothing too much since this was her first real time on top, but she wouldn’t be his Belle if she didn’t surprise him. She smashed their hips together when she went back down, eyes crossed and mouth open in rapture as she went. For his part, he lost control of his body, too. He grabbed for her arse so hard that he slapped the skin, too keyed up to apologize or really do anything but hold her tighter. 

“Good, Belle,” he moaned. “Fuck, do it again!”

Her walls rippled around him when he spoke, and he had to focus on his knee to keep from coming right there. It was made even harder when Belle thrust down again. He didn’t know if it was a good thing or not, but she seemed so taken aback by it herself that she leant almost all the way back. But then, he got a nice view of her breasts stretched out before him, and – he gulped – the sight of him disappearing inside her below.

It was lewd, but he couldn’t keep his eyes away. The skin at her opening was so tight around his cock that, even when she slid him all the way out, it looked like they were part of one body. He couldn’t resist touching her there, tracing the curls about her lips until she moaned. The sound her flesh made when it slapped against his was enough to have him arching his back and praying for her to cum. 

“I’m… I’m close, Rum,” she replied, bending back further so he could reach for her clit. Her breasts bounced as she rode him, her body moving uncontrollably fast in her effort to explode. “Need you deeper.”

“Spread your legs wider, love,” he commanded. When she didn’t immediately do so, he ripped her knees apart himself, making them both shout at how much further he went in. “That’s it. Right there. Just keep going.”

Belle screamed. “Can’t, Rum! Too much…”

“You can do it, love. Eyes on mine, okay? Just keep going. I won’t let you fall, I’ll make it good, love.”

She nodded dimly and hoisted herself forward, spreading her legs further and holding his shoulders for balance. The marks she’d left last night felt afire when she did, but even that was a cruel sort of pleasure. 

All it took was one little twist to the side, one nudge of his balls to the place just behind her opening. She came around him like fireworks, squeezing him like a vice and holding him there in his own sense of ecstasy. He bumped against her to keep the pleasure going, but he was already shooting off inside her, too, lost to the love inside her body. 

She fell to the side when she finished, too tired to stay upright. Something proud rose in his heart, and he fell even deeper in love with her when he brushed against her back. He could happily go to sleep again with her safely in his arms. But they still had things to discuss. And he needed to start learning how to trust himself with her. 

He massaged her wrist with his fingertips to rouse her.

“Could you give me the mirror, Belle?”

He could tell she didn’t want to. The disappointment in her eyes was too obvious for him to assume otherwise. But the fact that she gave up the little sheet of glass anyway, totally willing despite her reluctance, was more than enough to prove he was making the right choice. 

True to form, he couldn’t resist toying with her a little. He lifted his hand high, flicked his wrist as if to shatter the thing against the wall. At the last second, though, he grabbed her around the waist, tickling her on that lovely spot under her ribs, and yanked her back against his chest.

“You said you were looking for Bae?”

She giggled a bit and nuzzled against his neck. “Yes. I just want to be the best thing I can be for him. I don’t know what that’s going to be, but I know it’ll help if I know him a little first.”

He kissed her temple and cuddled her closer – doing anything more would overwhelm him with feelings again. 

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve seen this one or not, but it’s one of my favorites. Just picture Bae and fireflies.”

Belle held the mirror in front of her. They both smiled joyfully when his boy’s face, ten at most and so full of life, popped into sight. It hurt him to watch, of course it did. But Belle gave him hope. If he gave up on that hope, he’d have no right to her at all. 

“He looks like you,” Belle whispered. 

He snorted in response. “Hardly. He got his looks from his mother, thank God.”

Belle elbowed him and kissed the stubble of his jaw. He smiled wider as he returned it on her lips, a short touch of skin that wouldn’t arouse him too greatly. A ripple across the surface of the glass had him staring back at the mirror, and his heart stuttered once more. The reflection of her face pressed between his and Bae’s, warm and happy and aching with love, was all he ever needed. He took a deep breath, and began to speak…


	7. Through the Surface

Through the Surface  
“I love mirrors. They let one pass through the surface of things.” – Claude Chabrol

 

mAy-U Ficathon 2014  
Giftee: midstorm

Part 10 of the Mirrors Saga

2x16 - The Miller’s Daughter

Rating: R

Warning: unintentional voyeurism 

Author’s Note: It’s finally back guys :D I know you’ve all been waiting, so I’m gonna keep the author’s note short. First thing is that this doesn’t immediately proceed “Never to Be Trusted”; this part actually happens 6 episodes later in “The Miller’s Daughter”. This is one of the reasons the mirror is in Gold’s shop instead of with Belle or in his house. Second, this might be split into two parts because my internet is still having a hard time letting me make long posts. If it ends before any actual voyeurism occurs, you’ll know. And I think that ought do it - hope you enjoy, my lovelies!

 

For all that she’d tried, Emma didn’t think she’d ever forget anything about Neal. His hair, his eyes, that stupid puppy-dog look he gave her. But racing down the street to Gold’s shop, her legs and lungs both aching from having run so hard for so long, she realized that she had forgotten how fast he could move.

Panting, she sprinted wildly after him. Fast or not, there was no way in hell she was letting him go in there without her. 

They turned the last corner, Neal’s shoes sliding across the pavement and Emma hot on his heels. Both doors to the pawn shop were open, the front bashed in and the back swaying on its hinges. A lumpy shape sat on the cot in the corner, hidden from view by a pile of blankets. Emma saw Neal’s shoulders tense, and her blood chilled as she ran faster. 

“Papa? Papa!?” 

Quiet sobs answered them, muffled but still familiar. It only took her a moment to realize that it was because they were Mary-Margaret’s. Her brows furrowed, even as she closed the rest of the gap between herself and Neal. Why would her mom be crying over Gold?”

Before she could second-guess herself, worry more about what was happening than she already did, they were back in the backroom, panting and spinning around wildly for some trace of either of their parents. To their confusion, though, the only other person in sight was Regina, hunched over the far corner of the cot where they couldn’t have seen her from the door. Neal redrew his sword, and, not knowing how well it would work but not really caring, Emma fingered her gun. 

“Where’s Gold?” she demanded. 

Regina didn’t say a word. It didn’t even seem like she’d heard them. Emma raised her eyebrows and shuffled forward. 

“Regina?” 

She moved this time at least, even if it was just an inch. It was enough, though, to nudge the blanket off the body. Long brown hair stuck out from beneath the sheets. And so did the corner of someone’s sleeve. Her breath hitched – it couldn’t be…

Emma reached out, but before her hand could meet anything, another gripped her elbow and eased her back. She spun around, ready to punch or shoot whoever had managed to sneak up on her, when her heel caught on the rubber end of a cane. 

Neal’s sword hit the floor. 

“Gold?” 

She knew her eyes had to be stupidly wide, but she couldn’t make herself look not-shocked. Just a few hours ago, he was on his death bed with Cora at his heels. But he looked perfectly fine now, a little exhausted but no longer bleeding from his heart. And if she wasn’t mistaken, the Evil Queen’s mother had just been vanished from the room. 

He smirked and leaned hard on his cane. “So surprised, Miss Swan.”

She opened her mouth, not even caring about the purple cloud behind her or the curtain at the other side of the room that was still smoking from where he’d likely just magicked himself in, but nothing came out. Whatever questions she’d been meaning to ask were totally forgotten. 

“Papa?” 

Both she and Gold turned to Neal, still staring empty-handed in the middle of the room. She couldn’t keep herself from looking sideways, gauging Gold’s face as he took his son in. It hadn’t changed, not in any major way, but she could see an unfamiliar smile starting in his eyes. 

Neal stumbled forward, like he was afraid his dad would disappear if he went too fast.

“You’re… you’re alive,” he choked. “How…?” 

Gold clenched his cane hard enough that his knuckles turned white. His expression turned wistful, just for the barest fraction of a second, but it was enough for Emma to recognize the look of someone who desperately wished the person in front of them really cared about him living or dying. She’d seen it enough in the mirror growing up. 

“Aye,” he nodded. “Your mother,” and here he glanced back at Emma, “saved my life. You just missed them.”

Her eyebrow arched up into her hairline. “Mary Margaret? How –?

“That,” he interrupted, “is something I believe you father would prefer to clue you in on. It’s a rather long story. But, suffice it to say, Cora is dead, and I am not.”

“Yeah, but how?” she insisted. “Mary-Margaret isn’t magic, and I don’t see Cora just being stabbed to death with no heart.”

He took a deep breath, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he looked to his feet and twisted his cane. Emma crossed her arms – if she didn’t know him better, she’d swear he looked guilty. And if he looked guilty about something, it couldn’t be good. 

A look at Neal in her peripheral meant that he was thinking the same thing. 

“What happened, Gold? What did you do?”

Gold groaned and looked entirely away, facing the curtain more than either of them. 

“I’ll be glad to answer all of your questions. Later.” Both she and Neal stepped forward to argue, but, the look he gave them brokered no argument. She bit her tongue – if the man hadn’t just come back from certain death, he wouldn’t be getting away half this easy. “But I have some things to take care of first. In here. If you would wait in the front, I assure you I’ll be quick.”

Emma sneered. “And you aren’t gonna run out on us?” 

She expected him to snark right back at her, to give her some sort of quip and then brush her off like he normally did. But he didn’t even turn to look at her – actually, he looked like he was too tired to do much of anything. And she didn’t think that all of it had to do with the fact that he was on his best behavior for Neal. 

“No, Miss Swan, I am not going to ‘run out’ on you,” he sighed. “I just have some very pressing demands to attend to.”

Emma opened her mouth again to argue, but he’d already limped away, withdrawing a glass vial of clear liquid labeled only “Regina” as he went. It seemed she’d figured out where Neal got his habit of walking off from a fight. And his knack for leaving her with questions that they weren’t willing to answer. 

She’d barely shifted forward, considering whether or not she should follow him into the back alley or not, when Neal stepped up to her side and nudged her shoulder. He’d apparently gotten over his paralysis. 

“Just give him this one, Emma,” he said. “We’ll get it out of him later.”

She hesitated another moment, watching Mr. Gold swagger out with his mysterious vial in hand, before relenting and letting her shoulders drop. 

“Fine,” she huffed. She shoved the gun back into her pocket and nodded at the curtain. “After you.”

For a second, it looked like Neal would try to smile at her, but, thankfully, he saved them both the embarrassment and led the way into the shop without a word. She didn’t give him a second chance, moving around to look at the shelves and hoping she was being obvious enough that he wouldn’t try to strike up a conversation. When she felt his eyes leave her and wander to the opposite corner of the room, she sighed in relief and looked a little closer. 

It was kind of funny, she thought, how many times she’d come into this shop without looking at anything. Sure she noticed there was stuff, and she vaguely knew where the biggest pieces in the room were, but she’d never actually stopped to pay attention to any of it. Not that she’d really had a reason to – she’d never been much for window shopping, and the junk was covered in dust anyway – but it still annoyed her that she didn’t know what half of it was. It annoyed her more that she didn’t know who it belonged to. For all she knew, she could be staring at something from her parents’ castle, and she wouldn’t even know. 

She turned away from the row of music boxes and Disney dolls, not really in the mood to give herself a headache comparing any of it to the real-life fairytale counterparts, and moved on to a dustier section behind the counter. The stuff here was more antique-y, fancy plates and lamps that somebody’s rich great-aunt might be able to afford but definitely not anyone normal. At least it wasn’t magic, though.

Something moved in the corner of her eye, and she stopped, already groaning at the thought that she’d been wrong about no magic. When she stepped back, though, the only thing she saw was her own reflection – it was a mirror. A large, decorative hand-mirror. 

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall,” she muttered under her breath. She’d have to ask Mary-Margaret if Regina had ever actually said that to Sydney. 

“What was that?” Neal piped up. 

Emma flushed. “Nothing. Just looking around.”

She could feel him staring at her, but, eventually, he went back to whatever it was he was doing. Relieved and alone again, she picked up the mirror and turned it over. There wasn’t anything engraved on it like she thought there would be, or at least not anybody’s name. The whole back was covered with tiny silver doves.

Head tilted, she turned it glass-side up again. Her face stared back up at her, tired and wet from sweat and rain. She frowned. She’d never been vain, never had time to be, but that didn’t mean she didn’t care about how she looked. The dark circles under her eyes, the tiny frown-lines starting to form around her nose and lips. When had she started to look twenty-nine?

She widened her eyes, seeing if that did anything to the wrinkles around her nose, but all it accomplished was making her look weirdly surprised. Annoyed, she shifted her expression again… and another face, a little boy’s, stared back. And then he squealed. 

“Look, look!”

“Shit!”

Emma jumped, smashing her shoulder into the bookcase as she did. Metal clattered around her feet, bouncing off her head and arms from the top shelf, and she slammed hard into the ground. 

“Emma!” 

Neal bounded across the room, skidding to her side on his knees in an instant. She ignored him, looking instead at the mirror as she rubbed the knot on her head. Miraculously, neither the glass nor her skull had broken. And the little boy was still floating in the frame, bouncing up and down on his toes.

Beside her, Neal took her fingers from her scalp and looked her over. 

“You okay? What happened?”

She yanked her hand away and glared at him. “Yeah, Neal, fine,” she griped. “Just got freaked out by this stupid freaking mirror.”

His eyebrow floated all the way up to his hairline. Rather than answer him, she picked the mirror off of the shop floor and tilted it until he could see what she saw. The kid yelped again before she even had a chance to give it to him, and she frowned at him for making her jump again. Neal, meanwhile, hadn’t budged an inch. 

“Magic mirror,” he muttered under his breath. “You know who that is?”

She was about to shake her head no, but then Neal touched a corner of the glass, sharing it between them, and she was stopped short. The screen… glass… whatever it was, seemed to zoom in, focusing on the eyes of the little boy and what she could now tell was a toy bow and arrow set. He was young, probably no older than two, but she recognized the cute smile on his face and the openness of his eyes. 

“Yeah.” Her voice was hoarse. She tried to pretend it wasn’t. “That’s Henry.”

“Henry? You sure?”

Something in Neal’s voice made her turn to look at him. It was a welcome distraction – much as she liked getting to see him that young, the reminder that she hadn’t physically been there for it was too harsh. Her choice or not, it still hurt to see her kid grow up without her. 

By turns, Neal’s expression made the feeling both better and worse. He was smiling, for one thing, a real one, not one of his goofy puppy-dog grins. His eyes were creased, shiny but far from teary, as he reached out to touch the glass. 

It was the same way he used to look at her when he thought she wasn’t watching back. 

Below them, Henry drew his fake bow, and the arrow landed pitifully at his feet. 

“Look at him. Miniature Robin Hood.”

Emma chuckled. With a tight smile, she ran her thumb over Henry’s face in the glass. She didn’t care when it brushed against Neal’s hand, just for a second, even when she felt his eyes on her. 

Thankfully or not, he didn’t get the chance to comment on it, either the touch or the emotion they both obviously felt watching their son. Just as her skin touched the surface, a cloud of purple dust swept over the glass, inside of the glass, and Henry was gone. When the fog cleared, there was another young boy in his place. 

“Mrs. Carol.” The kid fidgeted, drawing Emma’s attention to his raggedy sack-like clothes and messy hair. “Mrs. Carol, when are Mama and Papa coming back?” 

The image in the mirror widened, panning to show a thin woman with blonde hair wearing an apron. She frowned at the little boy, and so did Emma – from this angle, she finally noticed how small and dirty the house in the mirror was. 

The woman sighed. “Well, your papa will be home after Market Day is over. Maybe just a few more hours. Your mama will be home when she gets home.”

Silent, the boy dropped his hands and looked away. He waited for a second, tilted expectantly toward the woman, but, when she didn’t say anything else, he exhaled and walked away. He wasn’t fidgeting anymore. 

Outside the glass, she cocked her head to the side and leaned closer. “Okay, I have no idea who this is. I’ve never seen either of these people before. Neal, do you… Neal?”

At her side, Neal had frozen solid. There was a look in his eyes that she didn’t like. She wondered if, like her, he’d been triggered by the image of the young boy left by his parents, but was just not as good as hiding it. 

Eyes narrowed, she leaned closer to him, settling the mirror half in his lap. 

“Neal? Neal, you okay?” 

He didn’t answer. She lifted her hand, hesitated because she wasn’t sure that she wanted to touch him (or that it would be welcome), and softly prodded him in the shoulder. Immediately, he blinked his eyes and sat back, his expression totally clear. It seemed her old trick for getting him out of his zone still worked. 

“Hey,” she smiled, hoping it sounded comforting and not awkward. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” He’d answered too quickly, and they both knew it. And the look she shot him said as much. He groaned under his breath and let his head fall. Just like the little boy in the mirror had. “I mean… yeah. I’m okay. I just… I know who that is.”

Emma’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “Really? Who is it? Is it somebody from back there?”

“Yeah. That’s, um… that’s me,” he answered thickly. 

Her heart clenched, her already thin mouth falling into a frown. Unbidden, her eyes sought out the sad boy… Bae, she remembered… in the mirror. In the year they’d lived together, Neal had only briefly mentioned what it was like for him growing up. He’d never mentioned parents at all. She’d always assumed that, like her, he was an orphan and just didn’t like to talk about it. Looking at this, she guessed that, in a way, that was true. 

No wonder she felt so bad for the kid.

Forcing herself not to ask anything, she looked back at the mirror and the little boy – the little Neal – now playing with a straw doll by a fire. She could sort of see it, if she really focused on his face. His eyes didn’t look quite the same, and his hair was too long and… floofy, if that was a word, but there was something in the way he held himself. Something in how a little kid looked so strong, even when he was sad and alone. She could see it now. 

“You look like him. Henry,” she said softly. “Or he looks like you.”

The corner of his lip tilted up, but just for a second. In the next, he’d taken the mirror in his hands, holding it so carefully that it could have been a wounded animal. 

“This is impossible,” he mumbled. “How is it showing me and Henry as kids?”

“Well, it’s a magic mirror, isn’t it?” 

“That’s what I mean. Most magic mirrors I know about show you stuff that’s going on right now, not stuff that happened in the past.”

Before she could say anything in response, Neal moved his fingers, brushing up against the glass, and the image went foggy all over again. 

The glass took a long while to settle this time, the purple clouds swirling around for what felt like minutes before it settled. For half a second, she was sure she saw her own face, smiling at from her under a tree with the glasses she’d stopped wearing when she turned twenty, but she dismissed it as her imagination. She’d probably just seen her own reflection and got carried away. 

Finally, though, another room rose up from the dust. Much as she tried to hide it, Emma couldn’t help but be surprised at the new place, so much bigger and fancier than the shack Neal had grown up in. Bright red walls, gold engraved doors. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say it was a castle. But, then, seeing the trees stretched out behind the windows in the mirror, she realized that it really could be a castle. They were still in the Enchanted Forest. 

A loud bang interrupted her from her thoughts, and she glanced to the side of the glass just in time to see the door of the room burst open. Barely a moment later, a small thing in black leather pants and a red silk shirt followed after. And a closer glance showed that the thing’s skin was mottled, shiny, and grey. Emma couldn’t hold back her scoff.

“Okay, ogres are one thing, but you guys had lizard people? Isn’t that, like, a video game thing?”

For a second, she thought he hadn’t heard her, fixed on the mirror without blinking or moving, but, finally, he moved his head and looked at her in confusion.

“Lizard people? What are you talking about?”

Emma huffed and pointed at the thing walking around in the castle. The moment she did, it moved its hands up and over its head in a weird gesture that instantly put her on edge. It was like it sensed her.

“This… thing.” 

Neal looked at the mirror, then back to her, then at the mirror again. 

“Oh,” he muttered.

She glared and scooted closer. “What do you mean, ‘oh’? What the hell is it?”

The look on his face wasn’t missed on her – it was the same one he’d worn when he’d tried to convince her to let him go to Canada on his own. Nor was the fact that he wouldn’t actually meet her eyes. There was something he wanted to hide from her but wouldn’t. 

“I, uh, guess you haven’t really met dad,” he rasped, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Emma stared at him blankly, and then, finally, his words sunk in. Her eyes widened, and she looked back and forth between him and the mirror just like he had moments earlier. 

“Dad?” she mouthed. “Wait, hold up – that’s Gold?” 

A high pitched, eerie giggle emanated from the screen, making them both jump a good foot off the ground. Mouth wide open, Emma turned her face back to the screen and watched, horrified, as the scaly man turned around, revealing a mass of black claws, blackened teeth, and serpent-like bronze eyes. But even if she didn’t know what to look for under the magic, she could see that Neal was right – she was looking at none other than Rumplestiltskin. 

Unable to help herself, Emma scooched closer to Neal, vying for a better look at the weird little man in the mirror. He didn’t look anything like Gold, except for maybe the shape of his face. He looked too… wild, was a good word for it. Like he could snap at any second. Gold was always in control of himself, excepting the two times she had to pull him off somebody to keep him from killing them. And both of those situations were about Belle, so it wasn’t like they were random attacks. She wondered which curse – that of the Dark One or Regina’s – was responsible for the change.

Behind Rumplestiltskin, the door magicked itself open again, this time admitting a petite brunette in a blue peasant’s dress. She looked a little huffy, her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed at the leather-clad… thing, in front of her, but there was something amused in her expression, too. If she didn’t know better, Emma would guess that she was dealing with a bossy little kid. 

She smiled softly, turning briefly to look at Neal. “Cool, Belle’s in this one.” 

“Belle…” Neal mouthed the name, eyes crossed as he tried to figure out where he’d heard it before. She couldn’t keep from smirking when he finally got it. “Wait, Belle? The girl on the phone? That’s his girlfriend?”

Emma snorted. “Yeah, I know. And she seems really nice, too.”

Her eyes followed Neal’s as he watched Belle cross the room, finally coming to rest by his dad’s side. Instead of lurking behind him, she hefted herself onto the long table beside them, swinging her legs as she waited for him to say something. Emma could sympathize with her – waiting on Gold to talk about stuff was beyond irritating, and she figured that waiting on Rumplestiltskin couldn’t be that much different. 

A corner of Neal’s lip quirked up. “She kinda looks like my mama. Mom. Her hair’s a little lighter, and she’s younger, but they look similar.” He paused to look at her from the corner of his eye. “Don’t tell him I said that, by the way.”

Emma cocked her eyebrow. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

He sighed in relief at almost the same second his dad sighed in frustration. Quicker than she would have thought possible, the little man turned on his heel and leaned expectantly into the woman behind him. 

“Yes, dearie?” he sneered, his voice surprisingly high. “What’s it you want?” 

Belle kept her hands on her hips, not even flinching when he inched towards her. Emma was impressed – she wasn’t afraid of the sorcerer either. “Well, you waltz in here cackling after being gone for a week, I think I have the right to be curious.” 

The scaly man puffed himself up, eyes glinting dangerously as he glared Belle down. She still didn’t budge, though, meeting his eyes head on. He tried only a second longer before realizing it was useless, then cursed under his breath and snapped his fingers. A puff of purple smoke, just like the magic that filled the mirror, surrounded his hands, and, in the next instant, a long, silvery cloak materialized in Rumplestiltskin’s hands. 

The annoyance on her face vanished instantly. Now, she looked carefully excited. “What’s it do?”

He smirked at her. “Never you mind that. If it works, you’ll see for yourself.”

Belle grinned. Obviously empowered by his audience, Rumple swung the cloak around in ridiculously fancy motions before clasping it deftly around his shoulders. There was something almost like relief in his expression when the thing was finally in place, his eyes closed and his shoulders relaxed, and Emma found herself getting excited for whatever was about to happen. 

But nothing did. 

Confused, Rumple opened his eyes and ran his claw across the clasp. Again, nothing happened. Immediately, his entire demeanor changed, shifting right into quiet, furious rage. She’d been right – this was a man who could snap in an instant. 

He tore the fabric from his neck, letting it fall useless to the ground. Fists clenched, he turned his back on Belle. 

“Get out.”

“I’m sorry, Rumple. I really –”

“Get. Out.” 

Belle sighed. Shooting him a last, sad little look, she straightened her dress, jumped off the table, and marched back out the way she’d come in. Rumple never once turned around. 

Shoulders hunched forward, he marched toward the white cabinet at the end of the room, waving his hand halfway there so that it opened without him having to touch it. A long, gnarled walking staff rolled out, extremely out of place with the silver china behind it, but it was the only thing he looked at. 

Emma stared down at him in bemusement. As far as she could tell, his legs were fine in this world. “If he doesn’t need the cane there, what’s he doing with one?”

She felt Neal’s shoulders move, ready to shrug and tell her that he didn’t know any more than she did. But then he went still. She let her eyes wander from father to son, waiting for one of them to tell her what was going on. All she heard, though, was a choked, “I’m sorry, Bae. I failed,” from inside the glass. 

It felt like almost a minute passed, filled with awkward, quiet crying from the man in the mirror, before Neal gave her his own explanation. 

“That’s… that’s the cane he used to use,” he coughed. “Before he was cursed. He used to use it to track how I was growing. I can’t believe… he kept it.”

His throat went tight, unable to let him say anything else. He looked for all the world like a lost puppy who needed a hug.

A tear filled his eye, but he blinked it away before it could fall. 

Emma pursed her lips. Even when they were younger, when he trusted her and she trusted him, he’d never cried in front of her. Not when he woke up from nightmares, or when they snuck into a sad movie, or anything. He was just stoic. But now… now he did. 

Her arms jerked uselessly at her sides. She’d never known what to do with people when they were sad, and now was no exception. The only thing she could think of to do was hug him, but that thought made her tense up and feel even shakier. It would be beyond awkward, touching him like that now when they hadn’t so much as shook hands in almost eleven years. But his eyes were still watery, and Rumplestiltskin was still crying, and she couldn’t take it. 

He couldn’t think it was romantic or that she still had feelings for him if he was upset. She was just being nice. Everybody deserved to be held when they cried. 

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, put her arm around him, and squeezed.

Below them, the mirror’s image shifted again. 

For a second, Emma thought the thing had broken. Nothing but a plain, black screen showed up after the purple dust cleared. As her eyes adjusted, though, she realized it was just because they were looking at a dark room, probably sometime at night. 

And then she heard the familiar creaking of mattress springs, a low grunt, and knew that it wasn’t just a dark room. It was a bedroom.

“Oh. Oh, Rumple.”

“Belle.” 

As if the noises were a magic switch, the bed in the middle of the room suddenly became visible, as did the couple rolling around on top of the sheets. Their hair was wild, their skin soaked in sweat, and their mouths fused tight together. 

Emma’s cheeks flamed bright red. 

“Uhhhhh…”

Beside her, Neal cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on his knees. Emma winced for him. Seeing Mary-Margaret and David was one thing, but seeing Mr. Gold go at it? She could only imagine how screwed up this was for Neal. At least she could pretend that they were still just her friends instead of her parents. 

The bedsprings creaked again. Unbidden, Emma looked back down at the screen, still red-faced and starting to sweat. This was like watching a train wreck. She didn’t want to look – she really didn’t want to look – but she found she couldn’t help herself. 

She was surprised, then, when she saw that there wasn’t anything ridiculously nasty going on in the glass. They were holding each other. Not just holding each other, they were definitely having sex. That much was obvious by the fact that they were both naked and wrapped around each other like snakes. Not to mention the hand Gold had pressed between the two of them, right at crotch-level. But he wasn’t being rough or disgusting about it. He was just holding onto her, nuzzling at her cheek, and murmuring something soft and quiet into her ear while he rocked his hips and moved his hand. It was still gross, as far as she was concerned, but… well, it was sort of endearing. 

It took her almost ten seconds to realize why – this was the same way Neal used to hold her when they had sex. 

“What are you looking at?”

The mirror went flying out of Neal’s hands. It twirled through the air, half a second from landing glass-side down against the counter, when a gust a smoke clouded around it. When Emma blinked, it was suddenly in Gold’s hands. It only occurred to her when he quirked an eyebrow at them that she still had her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Frantically, she shoved Neal away and scooted out of his personal space, leaning against the counter as if she’d been there the whole time.

“This thing fell on me,” she mumbled, refusing to look the shop owner in the eye. “We didn’t mean to see anything, I swear.”

“What are you talking about?”

Neal choked. “We, uh… we kinda ended up watching you.”

“You… you saw me? In that mirror?”

He nodded, flushed just as red as Emma was sure her own face was. “Yeah. More of you than I’d like to see, by the way. Why?”

Gold didn’t say anything. She didn’t think he could say anything – he looked like the wind had been knocked out of him. She bristled, and took a step closer – family or not, it hadn’t gotten any less weird or uncomfortable to see that man cry.

“Well, I saw him,” she interjected, poking Neal in the shoulder. “And Henry. Does that mean anything?”

He turned towards her, staring as if he’d never actually seen her before. Emma clenched her hands, but refused to cow down to him. Unnerved (and embarrassed) as she was, she wasn’t suddenly going to act like she was afraid of him. 

“I…” He hesitated, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “No. It doesn’t mean anything. The mirror just shows moments from the past.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. Gold was good, no doubt about that, but she could still tell when the bastard was lying. She looked back at him, ready to make him admit what was really going on. But when she looked at him, all she could see was sweaty skin and his ass moving up and down in the bed. 

She gagged.

“Alright, then,” she murmured. “I’m just… I’m gonna go get Henry then. Okay?” 

Neither of the two men so much as glanced at her. Gold was too busy staring at his son, and Neal was preoccupied with looking anywhere else. Emma sagged in relief, and all but ran out the front door. 

She’d pick up Henry from Ruby’s later. And she’d half to talk to Mary-Margaret about everything that had happened after Cora sent her and Neal away. First, though, she was gonna buy at least three bottles of whiskey and lock herself up in her car. 

It would take more than a few drinks to make her forget that Neal moved his hips the same way his father did.


End file.
